


The Warlock's Hairy Heart

by TeenageCriminalMastermind



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Amortentia, F/M, Gen, Obsession, Riddle can't feel love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2018-08-27 16:48:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 41,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8409187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeenageCriminalMastermind/pseuds/TeenageCriminalMastermind
Summary: "It is unfortunate irony - and somewhat poetic justice - that someone conceived under the use of a love potion is rendered utterly incapable of feeling it."In which all Tom Marvolo Riddle knows is possession and desire, because trust me, monsters like that - they can't love. They can only want and want, until their hairy hearts can eat no more and beat no more.





	1. Chapter 1

**It sounded like the start of a cliche - girl meets boy, girl is intrigued by boy’s tall, dark and mysterious ways, boy learns to love because of girl. But such cliches exist only in fairy tales - and this is not one of those.**

* * *

 

_**What a start to her last year at school.** _

Katherine boarded the bus to King’s Cross, counting the stitches on the hem of her coat. This particular September was quite chilly, and the war was not helping either. Although they were nearing the end (that’s what Churchill said), the Wizarding War had only begun.

Grindelwald had already annexed several Wizarding territories under Dark rule, and the advance to Britain was only ‘the most logical step’, as many of her classmates confided during hours in each other in the library when they thought no one could hear. _Germany truly is as it’s pinnacle_ , she thought wryly, _Grindelwald for the gifted and Hitler for the humans_.

“Kings Cross,” the porter announced, and she stepped out into the windy, smoky mess that was London. She had transfigured her trunks to resemble a satchel and backpack for ease of travel, loading them all to a trolley as she casually strolled into a barrier. “Vera verto,” and with a flick of her wand, the trunks changed back to normal to be put in the luggage compartment of the Hogwarts Express. Being of age was liberating as she didn’t have to lug those heavy pieces of metal and cloth all around alone now - she could turn them into whatever the hell she pleased.

“Going to be a slightly shorter walk,” A parent smiled at her, looking at the badge pinned to her chest. “Katherine Summers, aren’t you? My Lauren, who’s a fifth year Slytherin and Prefect now herself, mind you, tells me all about her friendly Slytherin senior who, I can see, is Head Girl.”

“Well, I’ll give Lauren a big thank you for that,” she replied, heading to the first carriage from the end, a book under her arm. She took her designated seat, the younger prefects milling about in the corridor, eagerly discussing their badges above everything else. A little while later, a dark haired boy she recognised as former Slytherin prefect, Tom Riddle, entered the carriage, the gaggle of prefects gathered outside quickly settling into various spots in the small compartment.

“You all can take a seat, you know,” he smiled, making the girls either flush or return with snarky comments. Kate found the expression beautiful, but somehow unsettling - she had seen plenty of him through the past six years, especially since they had taken the same subject combination for their sixth and seventh years.

Tom was a league apart - she was someone who preferred to apply her intelligence to books and spells; he was someone who could get his way around anyone, in any manner he desired. Besides, she had no time for boys and their antics, while he was an open invitation to cause trouble during midnight hours.

“Well, I would prefer if everyone introduced themselves,” he spoke again, and many inched forward in their seats, eager to please their idol. Lauren, as her mother had pointed her out, was a proud-faced powerhouse of a girl, taking this chance to shine with utter ease. “Lauren Smiths, Slytherin Prefect, as you see,” she answered with a blinding smile. “Good to see you, Lauren,” was his perfect reply (all calculated smiles with the right inflections), before he moved on to the next. Kate waited until the others were done fawning over him before she introduced herself.

“Katherine Summers, former Slytherin Prefect and now Head Girl. Pleased to meet all of you,” she added the last line with a soft, reassuring smile. Riddle quirked an eyebrow, and she could feel the boy’s eyes rake across her, searching for something to identify her with.

“Haven’t heard of you before,” one of the Hufflepuffs pointed out.

“That’s because I was chosen for a quieter style of leadership, to contrast with the flamboyance our Head Boy is so fond of. Someone has to keep the balance.” The statement brought another questioning look, sparkling dark eyes settling upon her own grey ones.

“Well, with the way she has taken the room, I suppose I can claim witness to that assertion.” A look of mirth (and was that interest in her?) was etched on his face, and Kate felt her face heat up by the unexpected attention being lavished on her.

They discussed duties, and Tom let her take equal part in the discussion (which Kate found odd, she’d always heard he dominated conversations, _but weak minds make weak conversations_ , and hers wasn’t anything but strong). Once the necessities were done with, the rest of the students dispersed. That left the two of them in the compartment, and Kate had gotten too comfortable to budge for the gaggle of Slytherins that poured in.

The group was composed of the Slytherin (and perhaps the school’s) elite - Walburga and Orion Black, Randolph Lestrange and Abraxas Malfoy being the most noted. They collected around Riddle like a pack of wolves, she noted, always so eager to assert dominance, but also ready to be at the beck and call of the leader.

Abraxas filled up the silence with his entertaining but inane chatter about family matter and the rather disconcerting enthusiasm the Malfoys showed for Grindelwald’s campaign. Kate always wondered that the Malfoys, who considered themselves of purest pedigree, could be stupid enough to think that magic could discriminate between people, forget families and races. After all, they were the ones that claimed Merlin’s lineage (which was a load of Porlock dung, she always told herself) - _Abraxas must be the bad egg of the family then_.

Tired of Druella Rosier's chatter about the resurgence of Slytherin’s monster, Kate excused herself from the compartment, desperate to find a quiet corner to read.

“I suppose Druella does get too intense about her passions,” a voice quipped, and, turning to look at the speaker Kate dropped her book in the case. The object in question was quickly levitated back to her hands, Riddle smiling oddly at her.

“You call that faceless monster a passion?”

“Our definitions can differ,” he tilted his head, adjusting his stance by the carriage window. “Sometimes our interests can delve into what society calls macabre, or taboo. But again, isn’t society a changing construct?”

“Like those Death Eaters making the rounds.” Kate very well suspected that part of Riddle’s dark glamour was the motley crew of troublemakers called the ‘Death Eaters’ that he had assembled in the past two years.

“I suppose, madam.”

“No need to call me madam, Riddle. Summers would work much better than that.”

“Well then, Summers - I can safely assume you and I will be seeing much more of each other this year.” She nodded and, upon seeing the trolley lady make her way towards them, began fishing in her satchel for a Sickle.

“I’ll get that,” Tom replied, placing a pale hand over her busy one while pulling out a Sickle from his pocket. “What would you like?”

“As long as they aren’t liquorice wands, anything,” she answered, whisking her hand away from underneath his. He nodded, offering the trolley lady the silver coin for two Cauldron Cakes and two packs of Bertie Bott’s, passing her one of each. She could hear Abraxas and Randolph arguing over getting eight packs of Droobles’ as the door of their compartment opened, with the noise ceasing soon

“It seems like Walburga has effectively settled this case as well,” Tom quipped, popping a bean in his mouth.

“Seems like quite the negotiator,” Kate replied, munching on her Cauldron Cake. “Shouldn’t you be heading back to them?”

“It isn’t easy to let go of the luxury of intelligent conversation,” he looked at her with that trademark crooked smile of his, head tilted to a side. Kate would like to say that she was immune to such charms but no, even she felt those telltale butterflies in her stomach when Tom Riddle gave her his famous heartbreaker smile.

“You must be pretty desperate to consider discussing sweets and people intelligent topics for a conversation,” she returned playfully, and Riddle smiled again, albeit mischievously, as if the two of them had developed an inside joke.

“I can tell my term with you will be an interesting one. See you soon, Kate Summers,” he said for a parting message as Walburga Black sauntered up to him, trailing a hand up his arm. Kate turned away, sighing as she headed for a mandatory inspection. _Boys like him are only trouble, and look only for that_ , and she wasn’t even remotely ‘trouble’.

But then, as Riddle said, their definitions could differ.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Back home_ ** .

Hogwarts was a far cry from the muted and orderly house of her parents. It was chaos and mischief in all their loud glory and between the two she preferred the former, for Hogwarts was the world her mother was raised in and flourished. It was a place Kate didn’t have to deal with her father’s grief of losing his wife, a place where she could remember her mother with happiness.

She dearly loved her father, but wished he could let go of the pain and the hurt that was suppressed under layers of restraint.

In the Great Hall, Professor Dippet was seated up at the Teacher’s Table with the other faculty members, animatedly discussing some matter with Professor Dumbledore. His latest remark caused the latter to nod appreciatively as he chewed a piece of steak.

“Well, lookie here,” an elbow nudged her as she took her seat at the table, the speaker being none other than Alden Greengrass.

“Well hello, Alden,” she returned playfully through a mouthful of potato, effectively disgusting the blonde Slytherin and making him retreat back to his book. “I assume holidays were spent catching Puffskeins and trying to prepare home brewn Amortentia? Because that’s what that Marlene tells me.”

“What Marlene tells you is a pile of Porlock dung,” he retorted in between spoonfuls of treacle tart. “Although I did try the Puffskein part, although those little blighters are quite tricky to catch when your sister is cooking up quite the racket behind you.”

“Good Lord, Greengrass - at this rate, girls will either avoid you, or simply fawn over you.”

“The latter seems unlikely, as Riddle has taken up all spots since fourth year. All right, let me tell you what Emmeline Vance did when she came over to meet Argus, who returned from Germany after a rather nasty assignment from the Auror office…” He went on until the light tinkle of metal upon glass brought everyone’s attention to the Teacher’s Table, where Professor Dippet had stood up, smiling benignly upon all the students.

“Another term, another feast, and for us, another year full of fear and apprehension. But with that fear and apprehension comes hope and optimism. But remember, students, the Statute of Secrecy must be obeyed at all times and you must not involve yourself with Muggle conflict, no matter how much your heart might tell you to.”

“Believe me, it doesn’t,” Abraxas Malfoy muttered snidely, drawing chuckles from Lestrange. As for Riddle, he kept his face expressionless for the entirety of the address. Kate too tried to keep her expressions neutral, trying to let neither sympathy nor disgust show. Alden shot the Malfoy a disapproving look, then went back to his book before the platinum blonde could react. With dinner done, Kate oversaw the prefects carrying out their duties (this was part of her duties as Head Girl), waiting for the Headmaster to deliver any remaining instructions. 

“Good evening, Miss Summers, Mister Riddle,” Professor Dippet greeted the duo, Professor Dumbledore not far behind. Kate never understood the reason why Professor Dumbledore had such a suspicious eye on Riddle, who was then talking to Professor Dippet, all honeyed smiles.

“I expect the two of you to do your jobs admirably, and with Mister Riddle, I can expect nothing less, can I?” 

“Certainly, sir - your confidence is me will be well-founded.” Dippet laughed, clapping Tom on the shoulder.

“I believe that, boy, I do.” He turned to her, and Kate nodded back, smiling brilliantly. “Expect nothing less from me too, Headmaster,” she said, Dippet beaming back.

“I have full faith in you,” Professor Dumbledore said with a reassuring smile towards her. At that, Riddle’s smile fell, eyes gaining a strangely dangerous gleam.

“And me, Professor?” At that, the Deputy Headmaster only smiled at him with twinkling blue eyes.

“You know how much I trust you, Tom - I don’t suppose I need to enunciate it.”

“No sir, you don’t.” The exchange had a palpable tension about it, and something about Tom’s words unsettled her. Kate tried to reassure herself that her suspicious nature was just acting up, but she didn’t become Head Girl just because she was book-smart.

The two were then given directions to a room on the seventh floor behind the portraits of the four founders. They were encouraged to use it when the need came for private conversations, or matters that couldn’t be discussed in front of their fellow classmates.

Kate quickly made way for this mystery room, Riddle not far behind. Once there, the portrait of Rowena Ravenclaw turned to look at the two with a curious gaze.

“Two Slytherins this year - interesting,” she commented, Gryffindor showing his apparent disdain by refusing to cast his gaze in their direction. Helga Hufflepuff, however, was very welcoming and Salazar Slytherin was beaming with pride.  “What is the fate of a snake biting it's own tail?” Tom began, but Kate beat him to it.

“Life and death - a beginning and an end altogether in itself.” 

“Very well,” Rowena Ravenclaw replied. “You may enter.” The entrance was narrow and could permit only one person to enter, and Tom followed her as she made her way, but was suddenly cut off. 

“What…” she heard him exclaim.

“She passed her test - not you. Now tell me, where do Vanished objects go?” 

“Everywhere and nowhere,” she heard him say a while later, voice full of confidence. 

“Very well - you may enter.” The door opened again, revealing an annoyed and simultaneously smug Tom Riddle. Once done exploring the nooks and crannies, Kate exited the room.

Back in her dormitory room, she took off her robes, setting into a comfortable army-style ‘T-shirt’ that her father called those vest-like garments (which were more durable and comfortable than nightgowns) and a pair of pajamas, slipping into bed and immediately going off to sleep.

The following morning, schedules were handed out by Professor Dumbledore, and Kate heard groans echo across the halls as sixth and seventh years pored over their tightly packed classes, interjected by a free period or two. 

“Double Transfiguration followed by Double Potions? Someone kindly Avada me,” Alden let out a dramatic groan. “I stand with you, my good man,” Orion Black smiled, Walburga scowling as a reply. 

“I would say this was a rather ideal schedule,” Riddle interjected, taking his seat at the breakfast table across Kate. Professor Dumbledore passed a schedule to Tom.

“Good to have you first thing in the morning, Professor,” Tom grinned brightly at the auburn bearded professor, who merely nodded in return. Riddle’s grin fell as soon as the man left, the expression replaced with a blank one as he chewed a piece of toast with beans.

“What is up with the old man?” Abraxas Malfoy commented, taking his seat beside Riddle, his expression one of contempt. Kate looked at Riddle, studying his features as he looked through his copy of The Practical Potioneer, brought by one of the many owls flying through the Hall.

The person in question suddenly looked up, dark eyes locking with Kate’s grey ones. A moment later, she felt a rather piercing headache. “Kate, are you alright?” Alden looked over at her. “You find it funny, Riddle?” he snapped at the boy opposite her, who was then looking at her with an odd look of wonder on his face, quickly morphing to concern as she focused on him again.

“No, not at all - I’m worried, on the contrary. Summers, do you need any help?” She shook her head, quickly excusing herself from the Hall as she headed for the hospital wing. 

She was halfway when she heard footsteps quickly catching up with hers. “Summers,” Riddle called out, sounding out of breath as he took her arm, “are you alright?”

“Aside from that headache, I’m fine as a summer’s day,” she inwardly cringed at the pun as Riddle smiled a little. “Why are you following up, may I know?”

“I was worried, and my reaction to a joke in the magazine ill-timed. I did not wish to look like an insensitive wart to you,” she noticed his hand trail down to one of hers, pulling her arm away as he did so. 

“While that is deeply appreciated, why do you keep repeatedly touching me?”

“Just a nervous tic,” he answered dismissively. “Anyhow, I hope to see you in Dumbledore’s class.” With that, he retreated back to the Great Hall while she made her way to Madam Pomfrey. 

“You seem utterly fine, my dear,” the kindly lady said with a smile. Her daughter Poppy, a third year Hufflepuff, bustled around the room, quickly setting beds before she left for class. “Such a hard working child,” Madam Pomfrey added as the girl left with a bright smile. “Come back to me if this happens again,” Madam Pomfrey warned her as she rose to leave, muttering a quiet thanks in return.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully, with the day dragging along normally till supper - Kate hadn't found a plausible explanation to the headache (which had fortunately not made an appearance through the rest of the day). She quickly dispatched a letter to her father, asking if he could identify the symptoms and if they matched up with any common Muggle ailments. With the owl gone, Kate headed to the library, rifling through the shelves until she found an old moth-eaten copy of Magical Maladies And Their Cures.

While headaches had the same Muggle reasons and the same Muggle remedies in the book, it had nothing on unexplained headaches.  _ Occlumency and Legilimency practitioners and learners may face frequent headaches during the formative period, but these will go away as the student becomes proficient in the skill(s) _ .

Since she was none of the above, that didn't apply either. She left the library, disappointed. 

(Little did she know that a shelf away, Tom Riddle breathed a sigh of relief.)


	3. Chapter 3

**_It wasn't until the match that it happened again_ ** . 

Kate played Seeker due to her small and light frame, and Slytherin’s first match was against Gryffindor. Naturally, the houses were pumped and insults were being freely bandied across classes and in hallways. In such an atmosphere, it was natural that fights would break out between students, and Orion Black got into a rather vicious one with Gryffindor Keeper Lyall Lupin. 

On the day of the match, the Slytherins gathered in a circle on their end of the rain-sodden pitch, Alden Greengrass’ Captain badge glinting in the rain.

“All right Slytherins, we all know what to do. Black, Malfoy and I will go after the Quaffle. Dolohov, Rowle- keep an eye on Lupin and their new Seeker, and if the Gryffindors get too aggressive or start tailing either us three or Summers, blast them with the Bludgers. Rookwood knows his job all too well. Let's get these bastards.” 

Greengrass and Lupin shook hands before Mister Matthews blew the whistle, the two teams rising in the air. Kate cast an Impervius charm around herself before starting her search for the Snitch. 

Halfway through the match, her head burst with pain again, and Kate tried to steady her vision as she went after the Snitch, the little fluttering ball a few metres away. Barely ten metres away from it, she felt something hit her torso, her head hitting the projectile, and she could hear Alden yelling her name as her consciousness faded away.

* * *

 

**_Well, that was unintended._ **

Tom had only intended to use her diverted attention as a means of access to her mind - that Bludger wasn't something he'd kept track of. So when it hit the side of her torso like a cannonball, his only option was to help her.

“ _ Molliare _ !” The Cushioning Charm would break her fall and bring her down safely enough for him to get to her. Walburga Black turned to look at him, aghast, as he rushed towards the badly wounded and bleeding Seeker. Up in the air, Alden Greengrass was half in a rage, up in arms against Beater Castor Pettigrew while Orion Black and Julius Rookwood cast threatening figures at the Gryffindor team.

He remembered his Muggle first aid training, one of the few things that confounded world had ever taught him useful. He took her pulse while tilting her body to the side, trying to get a better look at her head and the wound. 

“ _ Conjunctio _ .” He heard the crackle of ribs knitting themselves together, her bones snapping back in place. But he couldn't hear her heart or her lungs, and he surely couldn't let a mind like hers go waste - magic wouldn’t be much use here.

Tom pinched her nose, blowing air into her mouth as he asked a rather confused Avery to push her chest. Twenty pushes later, someone yanked Tom away, throwing him onto the ground as the angry blonde figure lunged for him. 

“Do you want her to live?” He snapped at Alden, whose face had an animalistic anger on it. “Then let me do my job.” His businesslike matter-of-fact tone made the blonde back off, dealing with the Gryffindor Beaters. Tom got back to blowing air into her mouth, trying to remember the correct number of times the Army officers told him during training at the orphanage. Two minutes later, he could hear her take a rasping breath.

_ I wonder what effect would injury have on a mind and if any benefits can be reaped by a Legilimens. _

Since this looked like the best chance he had at getting the most time alone and practicing his Legilimency on her, Tom scooped up the injured girl and headed straight for the hospital wing. 

“Oh, my,” Madam Pomfrey gasped as he put her down on a hospital bed. “I swear to Merlin Quidditch will be the death of these children someday,” she bustled around, gathering potions and bottles while Tom stood at a distance, watching. 

“These bones look recently healed,” she murmured, turning to Tom, “did you do this, young man?” He nodded. “Thank Merlin for you,” she replied. “ _ Tergeo _ .” With the blood now gone, Tom was able to gain a better look at her injuries. The blood had all come from the head injury and gash caused during the fall. He took a seat by her bed, carefully looking at the head injury - it wasn't too deep, but certainly substantial.  _ Will keep her out of action for a few days, _ he supposed. 

It also played to his advantage - a witch like her could be of more value to him than most of his Death Eaters. He could spend the necessary time with her and build a good rapport -  _ getting past the suspicious nature would be an obstacle, but not a major deterrent.  _ He could even get her to grow fond of him, use that to his advantage.

But apart from the logical reasons, something else drew Tom to her, a reason he was unable to isolate. He took a hand, rubbing circles across her palm as he stared intently at her, trying to get past the unconscious girl's defences. 

A barrage of memories assaulted him, running across him like a blur of images, although unfocused, like he still hadn't gained full access to her thoughts. Tom saw snippets from her childhood, some happy, some filled with grief. 

One memory stuck out like a sore thumb.

She was seven or eight, playing with a small stuffed rabbit when a group of boys walked up the road into her yard.

“ _ Look at the little freak - back at it again, ain't she!” They snatched at the rabbit, Kate running into the house. The child looked scared to the death and suddenly (as if obeying her very will), the doors and windows slammed shut, throwing the boys backward and out of the yard.  _

_ “Freak!” They yelled as they left, Kate crying. The following evening, her father found out and wrote a letter to a maternal aunt of the girl's in Sussex.  _

The rest were just as vivid yet hazy, a maelstrom of images and emotions. 

“Stop hogging that chair, Riddle,” a voice called out, bringing him to reality. Alden Greengrass, soaked and angry,was staring at Tom with utter disdain, and he could see the jealousy clear on his face. He made a show of leaving, with lips indecently lingering against her fingers for as long as he could let them.

“Do call me as soon as she sends for me,” he smirked at the pureblood before finally letting go of her hand and heading down to the common room.

The rage in Greengrass’ head was music to his ears.


	4. Chapter 4

**_That her body hurt was an understatement._ **

Kate could feel a sharp pain at the base of her neck and all across her torso as she woke up, a rather surprised Alden Greengrass greeting her.

“Well, you healed faster than anticipated,” he spoke, and she made an effort to sit up, causing her to collapse back in bed again.

“My body feels like it’s on fire,” she replied, settling back into the pillows. “What happened?”

“A Bludger hit you square on your side and brushed by your head after that.” Kate mentally calculated the height of the fall and its effect on her already injured body.

“How bad was I?”

“A couple of broken ribs and a crack at the base of your skull.” That didn’t add up.

“Someone broke my fall, didn’t they?” Alden’s face fell, a look of disgust taking over.

“It was Riddle.”

“Tom?”

“How many other Riddles are there at school? Well, he spotted the injury and cast a Cushioning Charm to break your fall, then mended your ribs. Madam Pomfrey said your heart and lungs had almost collapsed.”

“How did they restart them?” The look on his face intensified. 

“Well, for starters, Riddle snogged you.” She was shocked before she realised what the blonde Pureblood meant, laughing as she did so. “What’s so funny?”

“Mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.”

“…What?”

“Do wizards not use it?”

“What arcane Muggle method is this?”

“It’s a new measure introduced by the Allied armies as a life-saving technique - you pinch the victim’s nose, then blow air through their mouth as you attempt to restart their lungs and heart.”

“Looks like snogging.”

“It’s also called the kiss of life, so…” This news surprised her - Riddle didn’t seem like one to care even a modicum for anyone else apart from himself, and yet he had taken the pain to save her life. “Could you send for him please?” Kate did not think it to be possible, but Alden’s look of disgust and latent anger further intensified. “What is it, Greengrass? He may be a world class git but he saved my life.”

“He was confident you’d send for him.”

“Because I suppose he knows what etiquette is?”

“Kate, he treated you like you were some sort of prize to be fought over. He… Good Merlin, just forget it. I’ll fetch your knight in shining armor.” Kate still couldn’t make out why her best friend was so livid. She owed Riddle a lifelong debt now - this was barely civil.

A few minutes later, Tom Riddle’s tall figure strode into the empty hospital wing, making swiftly for the chair beside her. “How are you?” His face reflected genuine concern for her, and Kate wondered what she’d done to capture Tom Marvolo Riddle’s attention so sharply.

“Aching all over, and my blood feels like it is on fire.”

“I suppose that is due to the Replenishment Potion Madam Pomfrey fed you while you were still unconscious. Do you have any difficulty breathing?”

“No - you made a fairly good job of mending my insides,” she smiled at him, gratitude clear in her expression. “Thank you.”

“It was only my duty, Kate.”

“Good Lord, first terms now?” She mocked gasping, a hand on her heart. “Must have been quite the ordeal.” He smiled, lips pressed together in a barely-there grin.

“I suppose so, madam. House Slytherin is undeniably rattled by this incident.”

“Who was it?”

“Pettigrew. Was aiming solely to scare you, but neither Greengrass nor the rest of the team buys it. Even Lupin gave him a dressing down.”

“Lyall has always been one for strong principles.” He nodded, passing a bowl filled with Bertie Bott’s. A pack of Cauldron Cakes lay on the bed-table, along with three new books and what seemed like a rose.

“Is that a rose, Riddle?” He picked it up, twirling the thin, long stem between his pianist fingers.

“Well, a red rose is what it looks like - you certainly have quite an admirer, to give you such a present.” She scoffed, sighing happily as the bean in her mouth turned out to be a caramel one.

“I have no time for such useless pursuits - admirers are only as good as their usefulness, which I see in none.”

“Well, you never know how resourceful one might turn out to be.”

“I’m resourceful enough for myself for now, thank you very much.” While all his niceties were perfectly enjoyable, Kate refused to be another name in Riddle’s list, and furthermore refused to be like the girls who were desperate for his attention but acted otherwise. “You should leave, Tom. Have you no classes to attend?”

“Merrythought’s class isn’t the same without her favourite.”

“What is the day and time right now?”

“Friday - it’s just after lunch - Dumbledore’s class.”

“Well then, Professor Dumbledore would hate to have the Head Boy play truant, especially due to a girl.”

“I suppose he wouldn’t mind this once,” he dropped his voice to a near whisper, “after all, this is not some ordinary girl we’re talking about.”

“Says you - not Dumbledore.” 

“Well, he isn’t the one truanting, is he?” With that, Tom left as swiftly as he came, and Kate noticed that the rose was replaced by a bouquet of red carnations and camellias.

She’d have to ask a Ravenclaw what those flowers meant.


	5. Chapter 5

**_This is why she hated men._ **

 

Either they behaved perfectly well or behaved like over-impulsive, over-emotional babies, and Kate was then at the receiving end of the latter. On one end was her closest friend being moody and not rational in any way possible. He was rude to Riddle whenever the occasion provided itself and while the two had never been friends, they had certainly gotten along. Now, a form of latent animosity had risen to the surface, manifesting itself in odd and ugly ways.

 

“Good morning,” Alden walked in, looking significantly happier on her third day of hospitalisation in the wing. “I suppose you will be out today?” She nodded, accepting the dinner tray in his hands. “Perfect - one less day of copying lessons for you.”

 

“I never asked you to.”

 

“Nonsense,” he waved a hand dismissively, “one  _ Gemino _ spell and the job was done. I also got Professor Dumbledore to provide you a two day extension for the essay on Animagi.”

 

“Fanks,” she spoke through a mouthful of baked potato. The two spoke about Quidditch, recent developments in class and inane topics like his mother’s pet Puffskein, and Kate was thankful for the normalcy in their conversation.

 

“Well, I must get going,” he sighed, rising from his chair, “Has Madam Pomfrey told you when you can leave?”

 

“Not yet - nevertheless, you will see me in the Common Room tonight.”

 

“Thank Merlin for that - see you soon, Katie.” She wished him goodbye, finishing the last piece of brownie on her plate. At dinner, Tom entered the hospital wing, all smiles.

 

“Good evening,” He sounded quite upbeat. 

 

“You seem in fine spirits,” she commented as he took the supper tray from her, placing it on a trolley in front of her bed. 

 

“Well, you’ll be out of the wing and I’ll finally have company on these damned nighttime patrols.”

 

“That doesn’t seem reason enough.”

 

“Can’t a fellow enjoy the simple blessings of life?” His smile was playful, and Kate noticed he had deposited another batch of red carnations and camellias on the nightstand.

 

“I don’t suppose you’ll tell me what these flowers mean?”

 

“I just seem to like them - they remind me of the invalid I bring them to.”

 

“You never do anything meaningless, Riddle.” His grin widened.

 

“Well, like my name, these too are a riddle - it is up to you to find the answer to them.” 

 

“I’d like to start now, then.” Bare feet hit the ground as she tried to stand up, and a sharp pain rose in her side as she took her first few steps. In an instant, Tom’s arms were around her, an arm around her shoulder while the other steadied her by the waist. 

 

“Madam Pomfrey,” he called out, and the nurse came rushing out of her office in her nightgown, looking both glad and mortified upon seeing her stand up.

 

“Well, since you cannot stand without much assistance, I think I should maybe keep you here longer.”

 

“No!” She was dying to get out of the hospital wing, and any delay was simply unacceptable. “Madam Pomfrey, my breathing is perfectly fine - it’s just a small ache on the side, which will certainly fade by tonight.”

 

“Well then, one Relieving Potion ought to set everything right,” she muttered, shuffling through the drawers until she found a large blue bottle, pouring the required amount in a large spoon. “Up you go, young lady.” Kate took it, downing the sharply minty potion in one gulp. The liquid slightly burnt her throat but a minute later, she felt the pain die down a little. “You’ll be right as rain - keep taking a spoonful after each meal for a week,” she handed her a smaller bottle. “Shall I?” She looked at Tom, who left her side as she followed Madam Pomfrey to the bathroom. 

 

Five minutes later, Kate emerged, dressed in her Slytherin robes, the Head Girl’s badge pinned on the side. “Should you experience any major discomfort, do come to me immediately.” She thanked the matronly lady, taking one last relieved look at the hospital wing as they left it.

 

As much as Kate wanted to walk the whole route without any assistance, the ache in her side had not yet subsided enough for her to be comfortable, and she leaned by a corridor wall once they were quite out of sight of the hospital wing.

 

“Are you sure you don’t wish to go back to Madam Pomfrey?” She shook her head vehemently, glaring at Tom as he spoke. “Well then,” the boy sighed, putting an arm under her shoulders, the other arm supporting her side as they walked to the seventh floor.

 

Each step up the stairs was turning into agony by the time they had climbed the four floors up to the seventh floor. Tom, sensing her discomfort, stopped midway as she leaned by a wall again, breathing deeply.

 

“I’ll carry you, Summers.” She grit her teeth, standing upright and trudging forward, the Head Boy coming to her aid once again as he partially hoisted her up.

 

By the moment they reached the portraits of the Founders, Kate was unable to support herself independently. She looked at Helga Hufflepuff imploringly, who immediately obliged, swinging the door open.

 

The Head Girl rushed to the sofa and collapsed, breathing short breaths between acute winces. She wrapped her arms around her side, trying to quell the ache. A few moments later, a blanket was placed upon her, followed by a hot water bottle flying through the air. “There was no reason to lie to Madam Pomfrey.”

 

“I’d rather suffer this than stay in the hospital wing for one more damn second,” she hissed, her hand reaching out for the hot water bottle. A wave of relief ran through her body as the warmth pressed against her side. “But how would you know, pretty boy? Ever been in confining spaces for far too long?”

 

“For someone raised in orphanage, confining spaces come in the package.” His tone didn’t sound as offended as she would’ve expected, but she still felt the need to apologize.

 

“My apologies - I forgot.” It was no secret that his Pureblood parents had passed away when he was young, and Kate felt terrible thinking of his childhood, isolated from filial love and magic.

 

“I certainly don’t parade the fact for everyone to know.” A prolonged silence followed his statement, punctuated by the sound of her breathing. “I suppose you will require assistance to your dorms?” He said, breaking the uncomfortable stretch.

 

“Yes, but Walburga doesn’t possess the strength to support my frame, and I don’t possess any to walk back either. Frankly, this sofa is very inviting at this moment.”

 

“Are you sure that this arrangement will suit you?” She pushed herself up in a sitting position, pulling the bottle out of her robe pockets. “ _ Accio glass, _ ” she poured herself out half a glass, downing the scalding concoction. 

 

“Now it will. Thank you for all your assistance, Tom. I certainly would not have made it back this far without you.”

 

“It was my duty.” She looked at him, blanket draped around her frame. After what felt like a considerable stretch of time, Riddle moved towards the door, turning back as he opened the door.

 

“Oh, and Summers?”

 

“Yes?” She looked up from her comfortable position on the sofa, peeping from underneath the blanket.

 

“Do take care of yourself till the morning.” The expression bore no malice or falsity, and she could see genuine concern for herself on his face. 

 

_ And if it was acting, it was bloody good acting _ .


	6. Chapter 6

**_So far, he was making progress._ **

Tom was slowly making his way into her good books -  _ and I cannot go fast _ \- because she was one of the rarer category of women who valued substance over style, and his typical flirtatious antics were only going to put him down in her bad books.

_ She already thinks you’re trouble, and she isn’t the one who’ll go looking for it. _

Kate Summers was a careful girl, and trouble was the last thing she’d come looking for. 

_ Until it is enticing enough. _

She was also curious and determined, whose body was a vessel for the mind it housed. And he had to align himself with her definition of enticing.

_ Then, she will unite heaven and earth for her goal. _

He was unsure now, but people like her were the kind who could make his empire a glorious tapestry, or unravel it all with one tug - he had to become worth the effort for the former.

Which is why his first act in the morning was to make sure that he provided any and every assistance she demanded. “Good morning,” he made his way to the sofa where the person in question was fast asleep, face hidden amidst blankets and dark brown hair.

For that one moment, Tom wished to run his lips over her skin, to let his hungry self taste all of her. He wanted to give himself the liberty of having her solely to himself, but timing was of the essence, and his wanton needs were nowhere up in his top priorities.

“Wake up, Summers,” he gently shook her shoulders and the girl shot up, wincing loudly as she sat up, massaging her side. 

“Riddle - had you not left?”

“I’m certain missing breakfast and classes is nowhere on your agenda.” Kate Summoned the bottle, drinking a tablespoonful of the potion before standing up, this time with a much more relaxed expression. “And I returned with a fresh change of nightclothes - couldn’t leave you in that state. I take it you’re much better?”

“Certainly - this potion works wonders.” She took a long look at him, an odd smile on her face, and Tom seized the opportunity to fully probe her mind in its conscious state. She winced, hand shooting up to support her head while he darted forward to assist her.

 

 

_ There was a swish of what seemed like Ministry robes, and he could see a tall, dark-haired woman, hair tied up in a tight bun, smiling down at a small seven-year old girl. _

_ “Katie, won’t you take care of your pa while I’m gone?” _

_ “I’ll make him soup!” Seven-year old Kate chirped, smoothing the lady’s robes while tugging on her own frock. “When will I get robes, Ma?” _

_ “When you’re eleven and ready to go to school.” _

_ “I bet I’ll be in Ravenclaw!” She said proudly, twirling around in her cream clothes. “I’m smart.” _

_ “That you are, young lady - and you will be in whichever house suits you best.” Her mother carried Kate till the lounge, setting her down by the sofa. _

_ “Ravenclaw does.” _

_ “All right then, you little eagle. Wish Ma goodbye.” _

_ “Bye bye!” Her mother walked to the grate, taking a handful of greenish-silver powder, and turned around as if remembering something. “And no cooking soup, young lady - Mummy has made enough food to last till dinnertime. Promise not to touch the stove?” _

_ “Promise.” Her mother quirked an eyebrow, Kate playing with a cushion. _

_ “And no magic too, you little hellion.” _

_ “Mummy!” _

_ “Goodbye, love.” _

_ “Bye!” With that, the lady left in a swoosh of flames. _

_ He is thrown into the next memory, a fourteen year old Kate sorting magazines and books in her bedroom, a yellowed Daily Prophet among them. She turned away from the pile, and Tom walked towards it, peering at the lot.  _

_ The Daily Prophet, dated 1933, showed the infamous Ministry attack by Gellert Grindelwald, marking the death of eleven Wizengamot staffers and an Isabelle Summers, a senior Auror. _

_ She suddenly turned around, picking up the Daily Prophet and packing it up in between several books and what looked like a family album. _

 

 

 

“How often has this been happening?” He asked her, sitting her down on the sofa. Who had once seemed invulnerable and mysterious was now an an armour with many chinks he could pry open.

“Not very often, but then, it started after a day before the match, so not too less either. I’ll be fine though - it’s probably what the Muggles call a migraine.” She stood up again, walking out of the hole leading to the portraits. “Aren’t you coming, Riddle?”

He followed suit, accompanying her to the dungeons and waiting on her in the common room, dressed in a fresh pair of robes.

“Riddle,” Alden Greengrass wished him, casting a cursory glance around the room, “have you seen Kate around?”

“Well, she is out of the hospital wing. Changing in the dormitories as we speak.”

“And why were both of you absent in the evening?”

“Kate was experiencing extreme discomfort and could not bear the physical pain of coming down to the dungeons - I simply escorted her to the Head Boy & Girl’s Common Room. And as a well-wisher and friend, I had to stay back to ensure her well-being in that delicate state.” 

The ugly silence between the two was broken by Kate’s entry, the young lady a flurry of robes and satchel, tearing out of the room and into the corridor, French braid flying behind her. “Keep up, you heathens - we’re delayed by fifteen minutes and that breakfast isn’t waiting for anyone!”

As Greengrass looked at him with mild incredulity, Tom couldn’t help but silently agree.

* * *

 

**_Being injured was a pain - literally._ **

Kate couldn’t even fully enjoy those pancakes she made that painful sprint for, the ache in her side resurfacing.

She was joined five minutes later by Alden and Riddle, the latter greeted by his coterie of ardent followers. Walburga Black in particular threw dirty glances, but Kate had neither the patience nor the energy to retort, choosing to lavish her anger by vehemently attacking her breakfast.

Classes flew by, and the day was nearly over before she knew it - it was as mundane as it could get, punctuated only by brief stabs of pain and immediate relief from Madam Pomfrey’s potion. As evening closed in, she readied herself for the nighttime patrol (which Headmaster Dippet had so graciously excused, but she insisted), waiting for Tom outside the Great Hall. 

Riddle arrived by the required time, the two briefing prefects about sensitive areas before they set off on their separate ways, deciding to meet at the fifth floor staircase.

The evening was uneventful as well, and she crossed seventh-year Ravenclaw Gemma McKinnon.

“McKinnon,” she nodded in her direction, while Gemma waved back. 

“Kate - how far in recovery are you now?”

“A fair level - I have a question for you.”

“Go ahead,” The Ravenclaw set her bag down.

“You know a lot about Muggle flower language, right?” Gemma’s face lit up, looking much more interested than before.

“Yes - why?”

“What do red carnations and camellias signify?”

“Admiration and perfection respectively - paired together, they’re a polite way of expressing lust, longing and utter fascination with a person. Thinking of giving those to someone, eh?” Gemma smiled roguishly.

“No - had a cousin at home asking me about them. Guess I know why now,” she chuckled, wishing the Ravenclaw goodbye as she walked off.

By the time she met him again, it was quarter to twelve. “Uneventful night?” He inquired, looking slightly worse for the wear.

“Doesn’t look like you could say the same,” she pointed out, looking at his disheveled clothing with a raised brow. “Do you give every girl red carnations and camellias if she manages to score more than twenty four hours in your company?” He took a long while before a reply, the silence before filled by the sound of their feet in the corridors.

“I suppose I will always be the casanova in your image.”

“You do nothing to deny it, and while I am perfectly at ease with that knowledge, I just don’t wish to be a name in your ledger, Riddle - I consider my worth far above that.”

“So it is clear it will take more than conventional means to convince you of my sincere attempts to befriend you.”

“You don’t give friends flowers that convey lust.” As if on a whim, he took her arm, pulling them into a dim lit alcove, propriety abandoned as he leaned dangerously close to her.

“I adore you, Summers,” he spoke in a low tone, “But more than adoration, I admire and worship you in the basest of means, in ways that would be deemed completely indecent.” His face had a dazed look to it.

“That’s bullshit and a stretch - you barely know me.” His face quickly lost its dreamy quality, turning into a cold mask.

“Then perhaps you too should consider your inference as the same, because I’m not a teenage fool who swoons over any pretty face,” he snapped, letting go of her as he marched off, leaving a rather perplexed Kate alone in the fifth-floor corridor.

_ What a shameless way to prove your dignity. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to experiment a little with the characters, but I dunno how it turned out. Opinions?


	7. Chapter 7

**_They barely spoke after_ ** .

After that midnight encounter, Tom barely spoke beyond the usual civilities, whatever friendship that was there between them gone - or at least temporarily suspended. 

After three months of solid silence and stoicism, he couldn’t help but grin at her whenever Abraxas said something stupid in Binns’ class or when Druella slipped on the quidditch pitch in an effort to get Amortentia-laced chocolates to Alden.

They had another round of career-counseling today, and Professor Slughorn was to take theirs. Kate and Tom stood outside said man’s office door, Rookwood joking around with Selwyn in a corner.

“Riddle, my boy,” Slughorn emerged as Abraxas exited the room, giving the four a smug smile as he walked off into the corridor behind them. Tom smiled brilliantly at the old man, following him into the room while she waited with the other two boys.

Kate could hear guffaws and merry laughter, followed by “but why, child?” frequently.  _ Seems like the frontrunner for Minister is having second thoughts about his career track _ , she thought dryly. After a few minutes of quiet discussion, Riddle emerged, Slughorn shaking his head, a paternal smile on his face. “Oh, Tom, how do I change your mind?”

“I really think this profession suits me, Professor.”

“We’ll see what the Deputy Headmaster thinks, my dear boy.” To that, Riddle simply gave another one of his enigmatic smiles, walking off.

“Now, Rookwood, get in,” the smile faded, replaced with a stern look as Rookwood walked in, looking fairly sullen now. Rookwood’s counseling ended with a shrug and a defeated sigh from both sides, and Selwyn’s went rather smoothly, leaving her with Jack Travers, Drystan Yaxley and Niccolo Zabini. “Kate, my dear girl, step in,” Slughorn waved her in, and she shut the door behind her, taking a seat across the man.

“So…” he straightened the piles of pamphlets, “what are your plans, my dear?”

“I was looking at Magical Law Enforcement.”

“An excellent choice!” He beamed. “Your subjects were picked out for Auror training, however. Not that they don’t work for Magical Law Enforcement. Whatever changed your mind?”

“My father thinks it’s a tad too risky nowadays - doesn’t want his only child facing death on a daily basis.” That was partially true - her father did think being an Auror was dangerous for her, but never had he discouraged it. “I might still consider pursuing life as an Auror.”

“Well,” he looked over his file, “you do possess the necessary skills and temperament to be one. But the discrimination Slytherins face in the force,” he tutted, shaking his head, “a travesty. Also, I do think you should head for a more administrative job in the Ministry - a child with leadership skills like yours,” he grinned.

“I’m certain previous head boys and girls have been more able than me, Professor,” Kate replied modestly.

“Well, anyone who can influence Tom Riddle’s decisions is certainly Ministry material to me.”

“Other things, yes, but that doesn’t make me Ministry material,” she scoffed, playing with the hem of her sleeves. “Besides, he’s just a boy - how difficult could that be?” At that, he laughed. 

“Make the boy change his mind by Christmas, and you will realise how hard it is.” She looked at the man, who was wearing a smug look like someone who had already won the fight.

“That I will attain, Professor. What is my reward?”

“Well, in addition to the rush of a challenge conquered, I would be willing to offer you unfettered access to the school apothecary,” he shot her a knowing look, “I know what you’ve been trying to brew there.” Shame and the feeling of being discovered washed over her - she was being careful, wasn't she?

“With all due respect, sir, you know Veritaserum is one hard potion to create an antidote for, especially without the proper resources to conduct longer trials.”

“That I do, young lady.” An understanding having passed between the two of them, Kate set out to accomplish this mission of hers, eager to prove that Riddle’s resolve wasn’t as infallible as it seemed.

Outside the room, Yaxley and Zabini were involved in a rather educated discussion over Cursed objects and counter-curses with Riddle, whose eyes followed her retreating figure into the corridor, him taking leave of the aforementioned gentlemen.

“Professor Dumbledore wishes to see us in the Headmaster’s office.” 

“I know.” No other communication passed between the two of them as they headed to said room, the griffin on the staircase visible.

“Ashwinder,” he spoke when they were within earshot of the statue, striding gracefully onto the steps. She stopped for a moment, admiring the almost fluid ease with which he conducted himself before following suit. 

“Good afternoon, children.”

“Afternoon, sir,” she replied. “We came as soon as you sent for,” Tom chiming in. The auburn haired man smiled. 

“And your promptness is exactly the model behaviour expected from young leaders.” He looked over them with that trademark glance, electric blue eyes staring straight into the listeners’. “Now, the school intends to hold a Yule Ball. Our sister schools in France and Bulgaria feel that in tenuous times like these, the Wizarding community must show that they stand strong in the face of evil.” The look of understanding took a more mischievous turn, and Dumbledore smiled in what would best be called mischief on a teacher’s face. “Besides, the war has been draining all the raucous fun and adventure out of us all, especially our students.” He continued.

“You and the prefects embody the best of Hogwarts in the eyes of teachers and students alike, so it would only be fitting that you all undertake the task of ensuring that this event proceeds without a hitch. If you think this is too big a responsibility for the two of you,” the sentence was left hanging.

“Sir,” it was now her turn to speak, “you picked the two of us as Head Boy and Girl with the expectation that we will rise to every occasion the school demands us to.”

Riddle smiled at her, picking up on her incomplete sentence. “You can be rest assured that we will prove exactly why you made the right decision.”

“Spoken like true leaders.” The professor passed two thin diaries to the two of them. “The program of the Yuletide week has been set down by the Headmaster and I. We give you complete flexibility to prepare in whatever fashion the teachers and you see fit, but it is expected that everything will be in place before the arrival of our guests.” They nodded, and Professor Dumbledore turned to look at the grandfather clock in the room, eyebrows raised. “Barely minutes left to lunch. You should hurry.”

They bid their goodbyes, then exited through the door, and halfway through the walk, Tom crossed her path, positioning himself in front of her.

“I would like to take this moment to apologise.” She looked at the boy with a raised eyebrow, studying that solemn and (fairly) sincere expression.

“What for?”

“For criticising you for doubting me - it was perfectly just on your part to suspect my intentions towards you, since I’ve done nothing to discourage your notion of me fancying you. It is rather admirable, your clear-headedness on such matters.” A smirk covered your face.

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t apologize for how you proved yourself.” He took in the statement, an expression matching hers gracing his face. “It was awfully unorthodox, at the very least. I liked that.” They resumed walking, an air of ease restored between the two, but amplified. She felt like she was dealing with a slightly different version of herself, one that took pride in both its vices and virtues. 

The chatter of the Great Hall was now audible, and most students had already seated themselves, leaving Kate and Tom amongst the stragglers and a sodden Ravenclaw quidditch team. “And I never thought you fancied me, Riddle. Even I’m not that naíve.” At that he turned to look at her, that same crooked smile back on his face.

“But I never said I didn’t,” he left her at the gates, confused while joining his friends (or followers, whatever was more accurate) at the table.

“So… what did Slughorn have to say?” Alden asked, Kate’s mind pursuing a different train of thought as she spooned baked beans into her mouth.

_ That tricky bastard _ .


	8. Chapter 8

**_Busy was mildly putting it_ ** .

On top of her NEWTS syllabus and Quidditch practices, Kate was busy overseeing preparations of the Yuletide week, and while being in charge of an event would be a welcome challenge, right now she would rather drop it all, curl in a ball and bury herself under a blanket until September came.

“Walburga, I’m sure you can put your differences aside with Jennifer and collaborate on this play.” Professor Beery looked like he was at his wits’ end, the wiry man negotiating (or at least trying his very best) with a bullheaded Gryffindor and an equally stubborn Slytherin. The play was from The Tales of Beedle The Bard, titled  _ The Fountain of Fair Fortune _ , and they had plans to stage on Christmas Eve, right before the Yule Ball. 

Right now, they were three days away, and while the castle was glistening with decorations and fairy lights, the scene with the students was far from festive.

You see, the practices had been going grandly, but Jennifer’s beau - their knight - had decided that he liked Walburga a fair amount too; not that he had left his girlfriend - just that his interest was oscillating between the two women, who had very promptly picked that up.

Anyhow, now two of their female leads were locked in a game of spite and pettiness, while the third, a Hufflepuff, was diligently practicing her lines (God bless her soul, that girl was trying to keep this mess together). Their snake was to be an Enlarged Ashwinder - Kettleburn’s idea, not the students’, mind you - and would be making its debut straight onto the stage.

So now, while Tom was gallivanting with the Beauxbatons’ and Durmstrangs, Kate was trying to manage two sulky classmates, since Beery had so kindly left her with the task.

“Walburga, for Merlin’s sake, I implore you -” 

“Summers, I would suggest that matters of the heart be one field you do not dabble in. Stick to the scripts and the sets, and Jennifer and I will sort out our differences.” The girl’s cold tone told her everything she needed to know, and she left the classroom on the third floor for the common room, determined to seek out Orion for some suggestions regarding the set.

“Ah, Ms Summers.” Kate turned towards the source of the voice, blood red robes swishing as their wearer advanced towards her.

“Erik,” she smiled, greeting the Durmstrang Head Boy with a handshake and a warm smile. Over the past four days, she had come to know the blond to be a boy of tastes very similar to her own, and he had struck a good rapport with Tom, choosing to mostly stick with him. “Not with Tom, I see?”

“Your Head Boy is in great demand amongst girls and boys of all schools alike.” Blue eyes lit up with a genuine smile - Erik genuinely appreciated Tom. “I thought I might seek out the rarer gem in the Hogwarts community."

“You flatter me too much, Mr Holm.” The two advanced to a seat at the Slytherin table, the sail of the school’s ship clearly visible.

“Please -” he stopped, “may I address you as Kate?”

“Go ahead.”

“Please, Kate. I feel that in the exaltation of your colleague, your peers overlook the fact that you are just as fine a young lady as him - just as accomplished and every inch as brilliant as him.”

“Tom prefers to seek the praise and attention of others - and that is a good quality in a leader. I prefer quieter means - that does make me ineffective at capturing a crowd, but I don’t feel that I would voluntarily seek as much social interaction as he does, so really, I’m glad my peers don’t crowd around me like him.” He grinned, nodding.

“That makes two of us.” They turned to look at the ship, where one of their students was taking a dive into the freezing Great Lake.

“The ship truly is ingenious. Extension Charms all over?” Erik nodded.

“In order to house the students, the ship can grow, if required.”

“Grow?” She leaned forward slightly, chin propped on both hands. 

“Yes,” he looked at the vessel with pride, “the ship has the ability to expand to suit the needs of the school, acting as boarding and safe haven for all. It, however, cannot conjure food out of thin air so that is one aspect we’re lacking in.” 

“Could I see this marvel from the inside?”

“Our High Master would have my bones if he learnt I let you. Durmstrang believes in fierce protection of its secrets, much like Hogwarts,” he raised an eyebrow. “Legend has it that the castle houses a secret chamber akin to the one that was rumoured to have been opened a year ago. A room that can morph into anything - a Room of Requirement, so to speak.”

“Well, the Room of Requirement is a legend so far - no surviving Hogwarts student can claim to have used or seen it, and the ones who do use it don’t tend to realise what they’re doing.” 

“Certainly - you guard your secrets, we shall guard ours.” The conversation did not progress further as Tom entered the Hall, a gaggle of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students traveling with him. 

“The man of the hour,” Tom greeted him, seating himself across Erik. “It would be a delight if you could accompany us to the Quidditch game tomorrow. Our best play against yours, and I would be glad if you would accompany us.”

“I’m afraid this cannot be arranged, especially since I myself will be on the field.” Tom smiled playfully. 

“I hope Hogwarts won’t be too big a challenge for your men, then.”

“I can safely say we will more than rise to the occasion.”

The rest of the day passed shuttling between classes, heading for Quidditch practice when her Transfiguration homework was finally done (Professor Dumbledore showed no leniency when it came to academics, Yule Balls be damned). 

She passed the school’s all-star team, practicing for the match tomorrow. Ravenclaw’s Arabella Vance had taken the Seeker’s spot - and rightfully, because Arabella had performed better than her on selection day and for the preceding weeks as well. 

“Practicing for tomorrow’s match.” There was some disdain in Rookwood’s voice, still sullen from being left out from the squad. “He’ll be here in half an hour or so.” She nodded, sitting down on a nearby bench and tapping her feet on the floor. Half an hour passed in silence, with only Julius, Rowle and Dolohov to keep company. 

The crunch of boots and loud chatter signaled that practice was over, and it was time for the Slytherin team to occupy the field.

“Positions, everyone!” Alden yelled, all of them taking their respective spots on the field. He released released the snitch, and it soared straight into the air, reaching a considerable height before Kate took off behind it, eyes trained on the golden ball.

While Rowle and Dolohov were alternating between sending Bludgers at her and stopping them from hitting her or the Chasers, she saw Rookwood flying faster than a bat across the hoops, stopping Alden, Abraxas and Orion’s goals in quick succession. 

“If you keep looking at the lads, I’ll get the Snitch before you,” he called out to her. An impish grin plastered across his face, he turned the handle of his broom towards her. “Let’s see who gets there first.” 

She searched the sky quickly as Alden raced past, heading straight for that shimmer that was darting towards the other set of hoops. The snitch was a fair length away from her (five arm lengths at the very least) when Alden caught it.

“Are we going to win the Cup this way? Because it seems we’ll certainly win the last spot on the scoreboard.” A voice called from the ground, and she headed straight for it, the broom halting with a screech beside the speaker. 

Walburga Black, in all her smug glory, stood beside Riddle as she cocked a condescending eyebrow towards her. Kate shut her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to swallow her anger as that _girl_ (no, **_gargoyle_** ) stared at her. Riddle looked at her, nodding for whatever goddamn reason with a matching smug look of his own.

“Alden?” She yelled from the ground. “Release the bloody ball. Let’s see if I catch it before Vance here.” Arabella, taken aback at first, willingly stepped up to the challenge.

“Go!” 

The two raced towards the ball, and after five minutes, she had a clear shot at the snitch when Vance suddenly appeared in front of her from below, snatching the object. She gave her a sheepish smile, nodding slightly.

“Don’t go easy on me next time for Black’s sake, please,” she told the blue-clad girl, looking at Alden as he took the ball in his hand. 

“Are you sure?” he looked at her, and she nodded grimly. 

The two took off, Kate gripping the broom handle tightly.  _ I’ll show Walburga what good Seeking looks like - that despicable little creature thinks she can besmirch my reputation with those silly words of hers -  _ A shrill whistle interrupted her train of thought.

“2 on 2 for Vance,” Alden called out. “What a waste of time,” Kate heard Walburga say as she came back to the ground, rubbing her eyes in an effort to dispel the anger.

“Alden,” she turned to her best friend, who now wore a look of worry, “Release it.”

“Go!” 

The two raced towards the Snitch again, and Kate could feel the wood digging into the exposed part of her left hand as she raced towards the Snitch as fast as her broom could take, pushing it as far as it could go.

The ball took a hairpin bend towards the ground, and Kate raced after it, diving straight towards the muddy field in front of her. Her feet scraped across the ground as the Snitch turned sharply again, this time closer to the stands. Kate, unable to control her speed, brushed past the stand.

A sharp spike of pain arose in her shoulder from the impact but she turned, shooting straight for the ball, which was now clearly in view. Arabella was barely a hand behind her before she lunged and was almost thrown off the broom, hand crushing the tiny wings as she clenched her fist around them. Laughter bubbled in her throat as she slowed down, feet gently touching the ground this time.

“Twenty-eight seconds,” Alden announced. “Third fastest catch ever on Hogwarts grounds, and fastest in the past six years.” Walburga held a look of disdain, Tom’s smug look changing to something a little more complex, and she didn’t have the time to decipher what as Alden held her in a crushing hug, almost lifting her off the ground as he spun her around. She turned back to look at the others; Vance was giving her the thumbs-up, Walburga looked severely annoyed and Tom - 

Well, she didn’t understand the look of disgust on his face - and neither did she understand why he stormed off the pitch.

* * *

**_Act disgusted. Really disgusted._ **

Tom was planning on wearing a supportive look when Kate finally caught the Snitch, but when Greengrass picked her up and spun her like the lovelorn Romeo that he was, he had to change gears. While the public display of affection did disgust him to a degree, if he wanted Kate to be convinced he had a decent amount of romantic attraction towards her, he had to act really, really disgusted.

So he took whatever jealousy-like emotion he had in him (which was troubling, because no, he isn’t supposed to be jealous of anyone) and amplified it to tightly-pressed lips and stormy eyes, and then turned on his heel, heading straight off the pitch without a single word or look. And if he had to convince her and everyone else, he had to keep the mask up until she asked him why. 

Well, she didn’t follow up, and Tom was thinking that this approach had been a waste of energy and emotions until nighttime patrol came.

“Well, you angry is something to see,” she quipped, the two of them at the sixth floor. “I just didn’t understand why - I’m only asking because it looks like you will implode if no one does.”

He kept up his look of disgust, walking faster towards the Astronomy Tower. “Miss Summers, why my emotions express themselves in whatever way they do should not concern you in the slightest.”

“They do since they were aimed at me.”

“They were concerned at the tasteless display of affection by your friend - your performance was magnificent. His response, however, wasn’t anywhere near.” 

She jogged behind him, French braid swinging as she stopped in front, face set in a sneer. “Oh, so the boy who shags every pretty lady within a three year range is teaching propriety? Didn’t know you were such a Prudence, Riddle.”

“He should know how to behave with a lady in public, and since you are considered beautiful by any metric and I haven’t had any physical relations with you, every is a rather incorrect label,” he stopped by the balcony, the moonlight illuminating their figures.

"Don’t argue over semantics. And a broom closet isn’t for private usage.” He dropped the angry look, letting a smirk settle in.

“Rein in your beau, Summers, or his lovelorn antics will embarrass you greatly someday. Roses in the hospital wing, the near-constant company of each other, that display on the field - you two seem very sure in yourselves and your puppy love.” She stopped mid-word, lips parted as she took the information in -  **_good_ ** .  **_Show her you notice everything about her_ ** .

“What makes you say he left that rose?”

“Poppy Pomfrey - saw it. Was gushing about how wonderful you two look, how caring he is.” He expected her to retort - instead, the girl smiled, a smug and satisfied smile.

“You’re jealous, Riddle. Good Lord, you’re jealous.” A moment later, Tom noticed the look of hesitation replace that smugness and, seeing this window of emotional vulnerability, peered into her mind, feeling the surface for the current situation.

She was afraid.

Afraid of his (suspected) feelings, afraid of whatever fancy of hers being requited, something about his words scared her. He looked farther -  _ oh, so it is  _ **_feelings_ ** _ that scare this little girl. It is unrestrained passion and its madness that scare her. Well, good _ .

He took a step further, a hand clutching a shoulder. He lifted her chin up with a finger before the other hand clutched the other shoulder. “I despise it,” he spoke, slowly and surely, voice filled with envy, “when that boy treats you like you belong to him. Which you do not - not in my eyes.”

“I belong to no one, Riddle,” she shot back, eyes blazing with that fire in her that he enjoyed so much - that spark that made every conversation and argument with her worth investing time in. “And get your hands off me.” She shook his hands off her with vehemence, turning to leave.

_ Not so soon _ .

“Kate, please,” he took her bandaged hand in both of his, pouring sincerity into his words, trying to look as hurt as he could be. “I never meant to hurt you this way. Forgive me - please.”

“I told you not to touch me,” was all she said before she left, leaving him in the moonlit Tower.

_ I should terrify you then, Kate Summers. _


	9. Chapter 9

**_She’s as good at faking as he is_ ** .

Kate shows no indication that the previous night’s conversation ever took place, choosing to be as cheerful and oblivious as she was ten hours ago. Alden Greengrass, however, seems to have stored the preceding day’s events in his trove of treasured memories - _ that sort of devotion is sickly sweet, cloying and suffocating _ . And if he were being honest, little Miss Summers had a taste for bitter dark chocolate, not sugar quills.

_ After all, the quills are good to look at and nice at first taste, but dark chocolate always makes the person come back for more. _

So far, Erik has been indulging him in a discussion over Grindelwald’s policies and principles, and one look inside the boy’s head told him he would disappoint. The school had a reputation for being accepting of the Dark Arts, so he expected that their Head Boy would hold the Arts in some esteem. This one turned out to be a follower of Dumbledore’s.

However, he seems to be enjoying Tom present a defence of the Dark Arts - in purely academic capacity, he assures him, because what would a debate be if both parties concurred? And Erik laughs and says of course, and continues listening with rapt attention as Tom explains the pros and cons of delving deeper into the Dark Arts. 

The group surrounding him is more supportive, smiling at him with appreciation at his words. He notices one scowl -  _ that blond puritan _ \- and expects his best friend to have somewhat the same expression on her face, but Kate Summers looks at him with an expression of pure curiosity and fascination, eyes seemingly sparkling as she listens to every word intently.

Of course she hasn’t developed a love for the Dark Arts overnight - it’s the scientist in her that’s sitting here, curiosity and intellectual thirst pushing aside morality, and  **_that_ ** is what he respects about her the most.

Erik retreats to his school’s table, his spot filled in by a fellow Slytherin. The Beauxbatons have not interacted with them much, preferring to stick with the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, so now he is left with listening to Avery drone about the girl he is taking to the Ball.

Speaking of which…

He has not picked out a partner.

Tom had been gifted a pair of robes by the Malfoys, who had taken a fancy to him during his previous stay on the estate. But new or borrowed, he was not taking charity, so the robes went off in a Knockturn Alley auction and he got a more subtle set that complemented his leonine physique and sharp facial features.

“So, Tom, got a date?” 

It was lunch then, and Orion arched an eyebrow, then laughed, looking around the table. “Well, I shouldn’t even be asking this - girls will willingly cancel previous engagements for you, unlike us poor lads.” Walburga shot him one of her ‘come-hither’ smiles, and while she would be an ideal choice for a social such as this, he has someone else in mind.

“Well,” he turned to the male Black, “it is customary for the Head Boy’s first dance to be with the Head Girl.”

“A custom last practiced one and half century ago?” Tom smiled, glancing at Kate.

“Traditions are traditions, and I’m certain she would agree with this.” The girl returned the favour with a smile, a challenge hidden in that expression.

“A true Slytherin upholds the traditions of its forefathers.”

“I must say, the two of you will look quite the pair,” Druella chipped in, and he decided to take a peek in Alden’s mind (just to gauge the situation) and was pleased to feel irritation rising to anger in his head.  _ After all, what is a courtship without any drama? _

“However, since the Head Girl has so kindly accepted the other Head Boy’s offer, it seems like you will have a first dance and nothing else, Riddle.”  _ Ah - a spanner in the works. Walburga it is. _

“Walburga,” he looked at her, “surely you would accompany this dateless fool?” She gave him a dazzling smile.

“You are one lucky dateless fool, Riddle,” she answered, a hand coming to rest on his arm.

“Well, we must get going,” Alden announced, “Black, Malfoy, come on.” He turned to Kate, a smile on his face. “I trust I will be seeing you there?” She nods, and Tom made a mental note to head to the Quidditch game once lunch ended.

Ten minutes later, he was heading to the Quidditch pitch with Druella, Walburga, Kate, Julius and the rest of the group. He saw Alden at the helm - word was that Lyall gave up captaincy as Abraxas refused to listen to a Gryffindor. On the other end, he sees Erik manning the hoops, making a round through them before he rejoins his team.

After a curt handshake between Greengrass and the Durmstrang captain, the match commences, all schools cheering. The Beauxbatons had chosen to field their team tomorrow against the loser of today’s match - which was rich coming from them, because they didn’t have a team even close to either Hogwarts or Durmstrang. The final would be held between the winners of today and tomorrow, and Tom had a distinct feeling that he would be watching a repeat of today on Christmas Eve.

Fifteen minutes in, and Durmstrang had scored thrice already, Erik successfully defending all of Hogwarts’ attempts.

“And it’s Malfoy - Malfoy with the Quaffle, boy he looks like he’s going to punt that ball through with his broom if it comes to that, and he passes to Black and Black finally gets through! It’s a goal for Hogwarts!” A roar rises from their side, and he covered his ears to prevent any probable damage. 

“And Vulchanov is heading for the Snitch - Vance close at his heels, she’s tearing through to get there, and they lost it. But oh wait, what, wait, it’s Malfoy with the Quaffle and it is through! That is the second goal for Hogwarts! We’re 30-20, ladies and gents.” The Quaffle transfers hands, and he sees blood red robes clutching a maroon ball before a Bludger nearly gets him, and the ball begins to plummet.

“The Quaffle is going down folks, and Greengrass has nearly fallen off his broom trying to get a grip on it, and he dodges a Chaser and a Bludger, and THE BALL IS THROUGH! It’s a hattrick!” 

If he thought the crowd couldn’t go any louder, he was dead wrong.

The stands seem to shake as Hogwarts cheers, and while Kate isn’t cheering loudly like the others, her eyes are gleaming, hands cupping her mouth and nose. She turns to look at him, clearly surprised.

“How can you be so nonplussed? It’s Quidditch!”

“I don’t see the charm in it.” He has to raise his voice - almost to a yell - to answer, and she laughs. “Care to explain it to me?” 

“Try to see it yourself, and if you still don’t, then ask me.” She resumes looking at the field, eyes following something or someone. He follows her line of sight, and realises what she’s tracking - the Golden Snitch.

Arabella Vance flies by, eyes following the same trail as the two of them, only she’s on a broom and rocketing towards the little golden ball. 

“Vulchanov and Vance, its Vulchanov taking the lead and Vance is streaking past him up in the air - she has the advantage now, folks - and it’s Vulchanov at the helm back again - wait, where is the Snitch now?” The Snitch, has seemingly disappeared, and he sees Vance diving towards the ground, Vulchanov still patrolling the skies for a clue.

Kate gasps, eyes wide and fists clenched as a momentary silence takes over the field before Arabella lets out a scream of joy, and the entire Hogwarts team heads downwards, burying their Seeker beneath them. 

The stands erupt with another massive cheer, and Druella is racing down to meet Abraxas, while Kate looks at him, same expression on her face, and he wants to squint at the brightness - flushed with happiness, glowing with pride.

He has to admit, the sport is intoxicating - he can understand the heady rush of adrenaline, the adulation and ecstasy of a crowd coursing through one’s veins. “It certainly is something.” The answer is apparently enough for her, and she leaves to greet the team on the pitch. Walburga stands by him, hand looping through his arm.

He walks back, turning around to look at Alden, Kate, Abraxas, Orion and Druella, who are walking together, discussing the game. Lyall Lupin joins them as well, and while Abraxas makes a face, the rest of the group willingly includes him in the conversation - Druella and Orion because Lyall is pureblood, Greengrass and Summers because they admire his personality.

Walburga prattles on about her dress robes for the Ball, and he isn’t interested at all - he knows the girl has impeccable taste and will look comely on the dance floor, but his current goal does not involve her, and least of all her dress robes.

Back in the dungeons, the day passes by with homework and chatter, and he excuses himself to his dormitory, lying down on his bed, eyes shut. Abraxas, Orion and Alden discuss strategies for the final.

“Riddle, what do you think?” He can hear steps, and Tom pretends to sleep as the person draws  nearer. “Boy’s sleeping like a hippogriff.” A few moments later, he hears the door shut behind him as the remaining occupants of the room leave, leaving him free to stare at the inky black water outside his window. 

After what feels like two hours, he can hear a loud pattering of feet -  _ time for dinner _ . Smoothing his robes and hair, he heads down the corridor, and after a cursory stop at the seventh floor, goes down to the Hall greeted by Orion and Abraxas wildly gesticulating in his direction. “What is it?”

“There’s a Hogsmeade trip tomorrow.”  _ Ah - that. _

“Have no doubt that I’ll be coming  - we must show our foreign friends the life that lies beyond the castle.”

_ But first, time for a trip back to father dearest. _


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be another chapter following this one very soon, since I have to leave for college in two days and there won't be much updating then. Hope you guys like these :D

_**A trip to Honeydukes was long overdue.** _

She was running dangerously low on Droobles and dark chocolate, not to mention that stash of Bertie Bott's was long over. So when she saw the notice two weeks back, Kate made a mental list of all the sweets she had to purchase.

"This is a very charming place," Erik commented as they trudged through the snow. "We have a similar little village too, in the valley. Sometimes the High Master allows us to visit it to buy similar things - clothes, sweets, stationery. I in particular have always been fond of the sweet shop - but being someone who puts on weight fairly fast and plays Keeper, my treats are few and far in between."

"Well, I have the metabolism of a hummingbird," she laughed, opening the door to Honeydukes. The shop was stuffed to the brim with students and they somehow managed to exit with a box of dark chocolate and four packs of Bertie Botts', plus two packs of Droobles to last her till the next trip on Valentine's Day. "Do you want to go back to the castle or walk around some more? We have seen almost all of the place, except for Madam Puddifoot's tea shop."

"I would like to visit this place."

"Okay, then." They entered the frilly tea shop, filled with couples and people who wanted to escape the cold. Druella and Abraxas were sitting in a booth, the former laughing at the latter's jokes, while Gemma McKinnon was inhaling the warm vapors of her hot chocolate by the door, hands wrapped around the mug.

"This place is a pink nightmare," Kate muttered, and Erik laughed. "Just look at the amount of lace and embroidery here! And the pink!" He let out a short laugh again, heading for the counter.

"Two of your finest hot chocolates please, good ma'am." Mrs Puddifoot tittered, then waved her wand as the drinks assembled themselves, the two taking the mugs in their hands and standing by a window - there were no empty seats left. "Well, I must head back after this - we have our match with Beauxbatons - will you be attending?"

"I most certainly will." He put his empty mug down.

"I'll take your leave now - thank you for this wonderful tour of this beautiful hamlet." He joined the group of Durmstrangs leaving, and Kate struck up a conversation with Gemma about the play, which had its final practice today.

Hot chocolate finished, Kate was taking a leisurely walk back to the castle when she passed the Hog's Head, something rapidly moving in its dim alley. When she saw the silhouette of a person in the shadows, she pretended to have seen nothing, walking straight ahead.

"Can I borrow a bean?"

"Absolutely not," she replied, moving the bag away from the speaker. The dark haired boy smiled at her, but his expression conveyed her hidden doubt - that he had indeed seen her see him. "You could borrow a piece of chocolate, though." She rifled through the bag, finding the box of chocolate, passing a bar to him as he broke off a chunk and returned it to her.

"Erik?"

"Practice."

"You showed the him the entire village?"

"Even Madam Puddifoot's." He looked mildly surprised.

"I gathered you loathe that place."

"Not her hot chocolate."

"Bought any sugar quills?"

"No - they're nice to look at, pretty nice at first too, but they're better off unused, because I hate leaving them unfinished and they become too sweet to get to the end. Dark chocolate though…" she pointed to the bag, "you can never tire of dark chocolate." He stopped midway, a crooked smile building up on his face - combine that with snow-filled hair, and Tom Riddle was quite the sight to look at.

"No, you cannot," he removed a glove, his bare thumb moving across her lower lip. The heat was welcome against her cold lips, and the contact made her shiver slightly. He skimmed his fingers across her right cheek, thumb still on her mouth. "You're cold."

In that moment, she was frozen to the spot - metaphorically, thank Merlin.

"Which is why I think we should head to the castle," she replied, and he nodded, replacing the glove as they made the walk back in silence.

"Warm up, Summers - can't have the Head Girl dying of hypothermia." He headed towards the staircase, going Merlin knows where.

She went to the third floor classrooms, determined to squeeze in another hour of practice for the play - Walburga and Jennifer were splendidly performing their parts and Orion had practiced the incantations enough times to get the maze and the fountain right on the first try.

The hour up, she decided to go to the library, wondering about what Riddle had been doing in the alley. _He wasn't there until I had just walked past, which means he Apparated._ But from where?

That question could wait until her Defense Against The Dark Arts homework was over.

* * *

The Beauxbatons had put up a fight against the Durmstrang team, but fell short on keeping. The capture of the Snitch was a very close one - Vulchanov and Hamon had been neck to neck, but Hamon's magnificent capture was in vain, and the Durmstrangs won with a 20 point difference.

Now two hours were left till dinner, and she decided to write to her father, although the hope that he would end up reading that letter was bleak - with the Blitz and the fighting in France, no man above 18 had the luxury of calling himself safe and sound.

_Dear Father,_

_Things are good at school - the sister schools from France and Norway are here - Beauxbatons Academy and Durmstrang Academy respectively. To celebrate inter-school unity during this time, we are holding week-long festivities till Christmas, culminating in the scintillating Yule Ball. The schools will leave Hogwarts on Christmas morning, and till then, the Head Boy and me have been asked to overlook the preparations and ensure the events progress smoothly. I don't know if you possess second sight, but thank you for packing Mother's dress for me beforehand for graduation day - it looks ideal for the Ball._

_How are you?_

_I had received word from a friend that the troops are heading to Dunkirk, Belgium. Is that where you are? How are your men? Is Major Timothy's son joining you all, or is the Army sending him somewhere else? I hope you are eating properly - the battlefield and your comrades need all of you with them. They say a second Blitz may happen, although Gemma's father, who is in the RAF, says that it seems highly unlikely because the Luftwaffe seem to have their attentions focused on France._

_Do not worry about me - I am completely safe and sound in Hogwarts. Nothing can penetrate the walls of this school as long as those who are loyal to the school stay to defend its honour. The Axis would never be able to find us anyways. Do write back as soon as you can._

_Your loving daughter,  
Kate_

It was hard to put anything more, because all he needed to think of right now was to fulfill his duty to his land, and just come back home - and Gellert Grindelwald came under none of the above categories.

The path to the Owlery was filled with snow, icicles looming threateningly from the roof of the tower. Most of the owls were roosting on the upper beams, some walking around on the ground. She called to a bronze one, a few borrowed Owl Nuts on her outstretched palm. The bird flew down, nipping at the nuts. A few moments later, it extended a foot.

"Thank you so much," she said, the bird taking off after a friendly nip.

There was still an hour and fifteen minutes left until dinner, so Kate decided to wander around the castle - an activity she partook in a couple of times outside of patrol. There were so many secret passages around the castle, and even though she'd discovered three of them, she was pretty sure the school had plenty more hidden in it.

She had often wondered if Hogwarts was sentient, the castle a living entity like the Labyrinth, ever changing and expanding. _Which would explain how I had gotten lost a record number of times in fourth and fifth year, because I'm certain that trapdoor behind the statue of the one eyed crone wasn't there before._

A huge group of students passed by, and Kate followed them, heading towards the Great Hall for dinner. The meal passed by in chatter and plans for tomorrow were the only thing on most people's lips, hairstyles and dress robes being fervently discussed.

_It all better be go well tomorrow, especially that Ashwinder._


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go - the chapter I had told you guys about. I'll be a little infrequent after this (like stated before), but I will continue to update. Hope you guys like this :D

_**She had a lot of work today.** _

First, they had the final match between Hogwarts and Durmstrang, and after lunch, the play. Then, dinner and the Ball would be combined, after which on Christmas morning the schools would be taking their leave, and life would return to its previous form of NEWTS and games.

The Slytherin table was abuzz with excitement, and their corner was constantly being crowded with inquisitive first years who wished to speak to Orion, Abraxas and Alden, who were more than glad to be tending to the adoring and inquisitive Gryffindor table was abuzz with chants, while someone on the Hufflepuff table was collecting bets on the game.

"Ready?" She turned to Alden, who was calmly munching on piece of toast, taking sips of pumpkin juice in between.

"Yes - a little worried about Beating. Lyall is excellent as always, and so is Erik - as far as that is concerned, we'll be fine. And our Chasers are good too. Vance is on top form - her being lighter than Vulchanov helps a great deal. But Beating - boy, those Durmstrang Beaters look like the bloody Great Wall of China. I don't know how Jameson and Rogers have managed so far; I am a tad worried about them."

"You worry about scoring enough to secure us a victory -," when he began to look tense, she put a hand on his arm, smiling reassuringly. "The team has been magnificent in the previous match; I'm sure you'll do just fine today."

"Thanks a lot, Katie." As if on cue, Tom joined the table (terribly late and sleep deprived, might she add), and after a cursory glance in their direction, sat down, his face a less severe version of that look on the Quidditch pitch that day.

She didn't withdraw her hand, instead choosing to scowl at him.

"What is ailing Mister Grumps?"

"Nothing," she smiled back at her best friend. "Riddle's just sleep-deprived, aren't you, Tom?"

"You cannot expect anything less, what with Potions and Arithmancy homework still left to do," he replied, having eaten through two toasts and beans with record speed. "But don't you worry, Katherine - I can handle this just fine."

"Your face speaks volumes against that." Contrary to her expectation, he just smiled at her, teeth bared in a sharklike manner.

"I think we have gone over the subject of my emotions and their expression fairly well before." He rose, heading for the door. "Malfoy, Black - do you not have a match to play?"

They had reached the stands when Alden stepped aside, beckoning her to do the same. "Is something wrong, Kate?"

"Why?" She looked at him, puzzled.

"Well, I was with Lupin, Davies and Orion yesterday when I saw the two of you walking back to the castle." He looked at her, not pushing further. "For Merlin's sake, don't lie, especially if he's giving you any trouble."

"We were just walking when he stopped midway to clear the snow off my face."

"Okay, then." He sighed, putting on a hopeful smile. "Wish us luck." She hugged him, a smile on her face as well.

"Make Hogwarts proud, Greengrass." She headed to the stands, joining the rest of her group of friends and acquaintances.

The first hour of the match was filled with four goals apiece and a bludger barely dodged by Lyall Lupin, who had made a rather difficult save in the last two minutes. The current fifteen minutes had just been passes of the Quaffle, the game moving fast yet uneventful - and no side was allowing the other to score.

"That Durmstrang Keeper is giving our boys a run for their money," Druella's cousin Albert spoke to her.

"Don't fret - Abraxas will make sure we emerge victors," she replied, clapping enthusiastically as Malfoy neatly swiped the Quaffle off a Durmstrang Chaser, heading straight for the posts. After zigzagging through the opposing Chasers and constantly tossing the ball between him and Alden, he finally scored by tossing it straight through the central hoop.

"And Malfoy's feint pays off as the Quaffle goes straight to the centre hoop - that's 50-40 now, ladies and gentlemen!"

After that, they were on a roll.

The situation looked bleak for Durmstrang as the scoreboard stood at 200-40 against them, with Hogwarts' victory nothing if not assured.

"Ladies and gents, it seems like the game is in the bag for Hogwarts. Chaser Mikkelsen makes a beeline for the hoops, dodges the Beaters and the ball barely brushes past Lupin and goes just through the third hoop! The game now stands at 200-50, folks."

The Quaffle had quickly changed hands then, passing through Mikkelsen and intercepted by Orion, who shot for the hoops, Durmstrang's second Chaser colliding with Black, arm yanking his broom.

"And that's a foul, committed by Durmstrang's Kurt Jorgensen - a penalty is guaranteed to Hogwarts. The team has collected for a quick dekko, and it seems like Black will be taking the penalty shot. He aims, throws and he's blocked! Fabulous save by Keeper Erik Holm - really, the lad is a powerhouse and what's that - Vulchanov has the Snitch! It's a tie!"

The crowd collectively fell silent, watching him hold the ball in his hand - then the Durmstrang crowd let out a deafening roar, and their Seeker disappeared amidst arms and brooms.

"By mutual consent of the captains, there will be no penalty shootout and the game is ended at a tie. Well played, Hogwarts! And well played, Durmstrang!" She headed towards the dressing room.

"Well played, Lyall." The Gryffindor grinned, extending a hand towards her. She went on to meet Alden, Abraxas and Orion, the boys animatedly discussing their goals. "Good job, lads."

"Orion stole the show," Abraxas spoke, thumping said boy's back, "10 goals out of 20. Really, something." The person in question smiled, then sunk into a disappointed sigh.

"But I missed the penalty."

"Vulchanov was going to catch that Snitch anyway - Vance was a whole two lengths above the Snitch's height - no way she would've got it."

"Come on, boys," Alden put his arms around their shoulders, "Lighten up. We have a play to see, and a ball to attend, not to mention a sumptuous lunch that awaits us all in the Great Hall."

Lunch was just as animated, everyone discussing nothing but the match and the ball. Walburga was discussing with Druella about the enchantments involved in the various set changes for the play. "Well then darling, I have to scoot. Better get ready soon, shan't I?" She quickly headed out of the hall. The hours and went by and before they knew, it was five thirty: half an hour left to stage the play.

The enlarged Ashwinder looked rather good as the snake, and Professor Kettleburn surveyed the beast with an air of pride. Professors Dumbledore and Beery were with the students, doing one final check of all costumery and props. Beery was asking the students to go over their lines one final time when 'Asha' and 'Amata' stormed in, fiercely arguing with each other.

"You can't keep your hands to yourself, can you, Walburga?" The girl in question smiled coolly.

"Well, Sir Luckless' title better applies to you, given your ability to only attract silly little boys with weak wills."

"Why, you little -"

"Girls, please!" Professor Beery implored. Professor Dumbledore stepped in, pushing the two girls out of arm's length.

"Miss Black, Miss Atkinson, I expect the two of you to maintain your composure and play your parts well, and behave until the play is over. Is that clear?" A stern look silenced Jennifer, who was about to argue while Walburga joined the rest of the cast (namely the townsfolk, Althea and Sir Luckless). Jennifer followed suit, glowering at the pair of 'Asha' and 'Sir Luckless', who were talking animatedly.

"Are my sleep deprived eyes deceiving me, or is that Ashwinder leaving a trail of sparks on the floor of the hall?" Tom whispered in her ear, and her eyes followed said creature as it slunk behind the hill.

"It's five minutes to opening," she groaned. Students had begun pouring into the Hall, which for the time being had been transformed into an auditorium, chairs arranged row-wise and the 'stage' separated from the audience with a massive red curtain. "A standard Freezing Charm wouldn't work either on a beast of that size. The best we can do is hope for the storm to pass and the hall to not erupt in flames."

"Should we inform the professors?" She saw Professor Dumbledore discussing something with Professor Kettleburn, the former's face drawn in concern.

"I think Professor Dumbledore caught wind of it before us." She pointed to the two, Professor Kettleburn patting Dumbledore's back reassuringly. The curtain rose, and the actors stepped forward, the narrator beginning to speak. There were a few hoots before they were silenced, the play going as planned; for the first two minutes, that is.

Smokes and sparks had begun to fill the hall, and while the students were watching in awe and pleasure, the professors, Tom and her had begun to move towards the stage.

"Oh I've had enough!" Jennifer yelled, brandishing her wand at Walburga. " _Stupefy!_ " Walburga ducked, then stood up, eyes blazing with anger.

" _Confringo!_ " Fortunately for Madam Pomfrey and unfortunately for the stage, both girls were excellent duelers, and as Jennifer deflected the spell, it hit the hill, which went up in flames. This was followed by a large blast as the Ashwinder went up in a shower of sparks and smoke, bits of the set ricocheting of the walls and into the audience.

" _Aguamenti!_ " Tom and her them doused the curtains while Professor Dumbledore cleared the Hall of smoke and sparks. Professor Beery had been caught in the crossfire, stuck between the two girls as they fired hex after hex at the other.

"Do you smell lavender and sandalwood?" She turned to Tom, eyes widening.

"The eggs." He shot off towards the end of the hall. " _Immobulus!_ " At first the spell seemed to hold, but then the eggs went up too, swallowing the floor in fire. While the women dueled in the center of the fiery stage, 'Sir Luckless' ran away and 'Althea' helped the rest of the students leave.

"Seal the Hall!" Professor Dumbledore turned to them. " _Colloportus_!" 'Althea', her and Tom pointed their wands at the doors, the massive iron and wood structures moving slowly, locks snapping in place as the Hall sealed itself shut. Professor Dumbledore had managed to separate the two duelers by casting a Protection Charm in between, Professor Beery was shaking like a leaf and Professor Kettleburn stared at the remains of the set in utter shock.

"Miss Smith," he turned to 'Althea' - Hufflepuff Florence Smith - "I suggest you take your cast members and Professor Beery to Madam Pomfrey. Tom, Kate, Silvanus - stay behind." While Florence escorted the shaken Professor and her two sullen colleagues out of the Hall, the remaining four were gathered by the front chairs.

"I suppose it is time to go to Headmaster Dippet."

* * *

The four of them marched off to the Headmaster's office, where the man was now seated, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. He let out a deep sigh, the Heads of both schools seated across him.

"Albus, Silvanus," he turned to the students, "Tom, Kate. Kindly explain exactly why this incident happened. Albus, please begin." Professor Dumbledore launched into the backstory behind the Ashwinder, at which the Headmistress of Beauxbatons looked at Headmaster Dippet with utter scandal.

"Monsieur Dippet, _c'est inacceptable_! Zis simply cannot stand! My students were in mortal danger!"

"Madame Aguillard, it vasn't zat bad," the Headmaster of Durmstrang piped up. "Your students vere out of harm's way as soon as possible, unlike the treatment meted out to my boys and girls."

"Monsieur Dragovich, your boys and girls had managed to escaped un-singed - the same cannot be said for my students!"

The two heads had begun to argue between themselves, and, seeing the situation, the two students were excused from the room, where voices and people were rising from their seats. They were a fair distance from the office when she subsided into laughter, Tom following suit.

"I don't think we should find this funny," he told her as she clutched her stomach with an arm, the two standing in the dungeon corridor.

"But you cannot help but do," she replied, beginning to laugh again.

"You and I have a lot of cleaning up to do." He pointed at their soot-ridden robes, patches of the same on their faces as well.

"Here, rub it off your nose," she pulled out a handkerchief, passing it to him.

"Thank you, but I think a shower was in order nevertheless. See you at the Ball now, Kate."

Walburga was back in their dormitory, surrounded by Druella, Antonia and a few of her other friends, recounting the event with an air of condescension. "I say it's time we forget about these happenings, and get ready, ladies." Kate gulped down the feeling of dread, thinking of the mess that was her hair right now and the challenge that would be putting on her mother's dress.

_May God help us all._


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... And another chapter! Sorry for the delay - welcome week has been quite busy.

**_Goddamned dresses._ **

While the item of clothing in front of her is extremely beautiful, the effort that will go into putting it on is very off-putting. Simple white, it is sleeveless - and shawl-less, Merlin’s pants - and goes down to her toes, with lace and sheer work all over it, giving the impression of glacial movement when shaken.

Thankfully, the object is packed in a protective bag, else her sooty hands would have ruined the entire thing. She first heads for a bath, a shower mercifully empty. Kate tries to make it quick - there is some squabbling going on over who’s first in line outside - and puts on a clean pair of pajamas as she exits the now-crowded washroom. 

Back in her dormitory, the girls have pulled the curtains around their beds as they get ready. She does the same, first drying her hair properly, then changing the bandage and then taking out the dress from its bag.  _ All right - I pull it over my head and try not to tear the sheer neck. Or anything else, for that matter. _

The sleevelessness of the dress is a blessing, because she can just stick her arms out of the holes and not worry about getting tangled in another mess of fabric.  _ But who will pull up the zip? _

“Druella,” she spots her fully-dressed roommate, shoes and everything done, “could you kindly pull up the zipper for this infernal dress?”

“If you could do the same here,” she offers, and Kate pulls up the zipper on the former’s blue gown, then turns around as she does the same for her. “You look really beautiful, Kate - seriously, I’m not joking around.” The girl has a soft smile on her face as she redirects Kate to a mirror. “Look,” but she can see a frown in Druella’s reflection, “the hair - sit down.” She pulls up a stool and pushes her down on it, pulling out a brush and an armada of black pins and rubber bands.

“Seriously, this isn’t required.” Her pleas fall on deaf ears as Rosier pulls and twists her hair, trying style after style.

“I suppose a standard French braid will have to do.” Five minutes later, she’s braided all of Kate’s elbow-length hair in a French braid more complicated than she’s ever seen or done for herself. “Now you look perfect,” she exclaims, patting Kate’s shoulders. “I’m certain a certain raven-haired Head Boy will be blown away.” Kate looks back at the blonde, who winks before she goes to Walburga’s aid.

Kate puts on her watch (style can go to Merlin’s grave, she needs that article) and glances at the face.  _ Twenty-eight minutes. _ She has no one to wait for, and goes past the corridors and up the stairs to the entrance of the Hall. Erik stands there with a few Slytherins, Gryffindors and Durmstrangs, then turns to greet her with a handshake and a smile.

“Looking charming as always, Miss Summers.”

“Thank you.” Ten minutes later, Abraxas, Orion, Julius and Alden emerge from the corridor into the entrance to the hall, Abraxas straightening his bowtie. Alden flashes her an encouraging smile, and they pass the time in chatter about food and music.

“Tom better not be late,” she mutters, glancing at the watch, which now reads ten minutes to eight. Druella, Walburga and Diane (her fourth roommate) also greet the boys in the hall, Abraxas showering Druella with compliments as she coyly accepts them.

A minute later, Tom shows up, and after a round of handshakes with the boys, greets the girls. A curt bow to Druella and Diane (what a showman - handshakes would’ve done), a chaste kiss on the knuckles for Walburga (who very much enjoys the gentlemanly gesture and the flirtatious comments that accompany it) and stops in front of her. For a few seconds, he says nothing, just staring at her before he offers his arm. 

“Just the first dance,” she tells him, Riddle smirking at her words.

“We’ll see.” The Head Boys and Girls of the two schools stand behind them in pairs, and as the clock strikes eight, the doors of the hall open, and they walk in. Music is already in the air, and the students have all positioned themselves around the floor, which has been transformed from the scorched debacle that it was before. 

The entire Hall looks like a winter wonderland, a large Christmas tree standing proud in a corner, the ceiling speckled with stars, snowflakes falling from it.

“Students, it is time for the commencement of the Yule Ball. Merry Christmas, and dance your hearts out!” The music changes to a waltz, and like clockwork, students begin dancing. 

“I would like to open by saying you look breathtakingly beautiful.” She smiles playfully at the comment, trying to keep the blood from rushing into her face.

“You don’t look too shabby either.” He leads the dance, swinging her around gracefully in a circle, a hand on her shoulder, the other on her waist. “Look who doesn’t have two left feet.”

“Ballroom lessons in the past two weeks paid off. Although I failed to see you there, so I wonder who the teacher is in your case.”

“My father,” she smiles a little at the memory, “till I was 12, I used to stand on his toes and he’d swing me around. After that he taught me proper waltzing.” They change partners, and she now dances with Erik, him with his assigned date.

“Glad to see you are enjoying the evening.” 

“I hope you can say the same - it has just been the first dance though.” They discuss dances and F Scott Fitzgerald (turns out, Erik's pureblood parents love reading Muggle literature, a well kept secret from others), stopping in between to have a light dinner.

“We have such a dance every year at Durmstrang - students in their fifth year and above get to participate in it.”

“It has been a hundred and fifty years since Hogwarts has held a dance.” They danced around the hall, passing friends - she could see Professor Dumbledore engaging Madame Aguillard in a rather stately waltz. 

“I suppose I should return you - your partner seems to be growing impatient.” He twirls her outwards straight into the arms of the boy beside her, Tom Riddle’s dark eyes looking down on her.

“Enjoying yourself?”

“Well, this is quite fun, but I cannot imagine myself doing this on a regular basis.” He laughs lightly, a hand now on the small of her back.

“You are not a lady who belongs solely in ballrooms - they could never contain you in one of those.” She raises an eyebrow at the statement.

“This doesn’t feel cage-like.” 

He drops his mouth down to her ear, voice a low whisper. “Well, see yourself doing this thrice a week.” She draws up the image - dancing and champagne and inane chatter and Merlin, does it not feel claustrophobic.

“You are a fair judge of character.” He looks around, that infamous smirk settling down on his face. 

“You know, it feels terribly nice to not be the reason why everyone envies me right now.” It takes a while to process that veiled compliment, and Kate struggles to keep down that blush.  _ I will not be reduced to an airhead by a string of pretty words. _ “I bet you ten Galleons any boy in this hall would be more than willing to trade places with me.”

“I’m afraid I’ll be a terrible bore,” she quips. “I’ll drive any of them away with chatter of spells and homework and NEWTS.” Tom laughs again, shaking his head.

“I don’t mean to be sexist, Kate, but no amount of boring drivel will be able to keep a man away from someone as divine as the dress she is clad in.”

This time she fails, and blood rushes into her face. “I hope people have told you that you are a terrible flirt.” He pulls her hand towards him.

“What will I have to do to get the next few dances from you?”

“Well, I have a favour to ask, which we will discuss over the next dance.” She takes his leave, and while he begins to dance with Walburga, she stands by the sides, taking a reprieve from all the moving and twirling.  _ How can people do just this day after day?  _

“So, having fun?” It’s Alden, smiling at Anastasia Prewett, who waves at him from afar, chatting to a Ravenclaw. 

“Been an interesting night for the past ninety or so minutes.”

“With the authority of a best friend, I can safely say that Erik and Riddle have been the luckiest boys of the night.” 

“Not you as well,” Kate groans, “I’ve already heard a similar comment from the latter.”

“He isn’t wrong on that account,” Alden shrugs. “Care for a dance?”

“Well, as a best friend, I do owe you one.” She takes his hand and the two step into the crowd of dancing couples, moving around the hall. “What did you think of the play today?”

“In all candor, hilarious. It was certainly a tragic, hot mess, but you cannot discount the fact that the scene with Beery stuck between Walburga and Atkinson was worth laughing at.”

“I doubt Hogwarts will be hosting a play of any sorts in the near future.”

“I would say the far future - Kettleburn looks like he’s contemplating retirement.”

“And he should! He’s old enough as is - better retire with his remaining limbs.” They share a chuckle, and she looks around the place. “So, Anastasia Prewett? She is a sweet person. Not to mention smart and plucky as well.”

“With a terrific sense of humour,” he adds in with an approving look, “That girl is a riot.”

“Makes for a good partner, doesn’t she?”

“Splendid dancing partner.” Kate fixes him with a look. 

“You know I wasn’t alluding to that.” His face loses a bit of its previous vivacity, but he smiles at her softly.

“Let’s just say she isn’t the individual I have in mind.”  _ Merlin, please let Riddle be wrong. _ He’s about to add to his sentence, but Tom cuts in, and she’s thankful for him interrupting them.

“I hope you’ll let me steal her away for a while.” 

“Well,” Alden looks between her and Riddle, “if she allows it.”

“I’ll get back to you,” she replies brightly (the relief well hidden) and moves far away from the spot. “Thank you.” 

“I could tell by your facial expressions that the conversation would be taking an unwanted turn. As a gentleman, I feel it is my duty to rescue you from such situations.”

“For which I thank you - also, the favour I have to ask of you is a trivial one.”

“Which I shall fulfil willingly.”

“Just tell Slughorn you will change your career track to the Ministry’s. There is a rather lucrative reward in store for us. You see, I require the assistance of a gifted student to aid me in a rather difficult potion I’m brewing. And since it is out of curriculum, the process must go undetected.”

“Consider the task done,” he led them to the Potions master, approaching the man with a smile and a glass of firewhisky. After a few quick words, he walked back to her, nodding slightly. “He would like to speak to you.”

Slughorn was beaming at them, glass drained. “Well done, Miss Summers. If I had known that the task would come so easy to you, I would have set a lesser prize for you to win.” 

“Surely you wouldn’t renege on your words, Professor?”

“Absolutely not, my dear.” Slughorn wanders away to speak to the Durmstrang headmaster, and Tom takes her uninjured hand, pulling her out into the snowy night, the two of them the only ones out under the open sky.

“I supposed this made for a better ambience,” he commented, hands placed on the small of her back as they swayed to the soft music coming from the hall. “After all, discussions such as this should never be held in the glare of the public.”

“Such as what, Tom?” He inched closer, a hand now skimming across her face, brushing away errant strands of hair.

“Would you not let me kiss you, Kate?” The question stuns her, and she answers by staring at him with a mixture of trepidation and confusion. She can hear her breath, blood raging in her ears like a hailstorm. “You are intelligent and brave, imperfect in most perfect of ways. Please, my dear - will you not let me kiss you?” So she does, with a jerky nod.

And it’s the strangest feeling.

There’s sparks across her body and fire dancing in her veins, and her stomach plummets as she smells the pine and tea tree smell emanating off him. _ Love and passion make people do things their rational selves will never allow - that level of unbridled passion and madness is nothing but destructive _ . And they were on the first step of that rocky road.

His fingers grip her chin as he gently but needily kisses her - she is no better; arms around his neck, the chill of the snow pushing them closer. His other hand runs down from her hair to her waist, slowly coiling itself around her, and for a moment, it feels like her mind ceases to function. 

Neither says a word as he pulls away - eyes drunk with desire, taking in her face, lips ghosting over her forehead, her nose, her cheeks, her neck. “What are you so afraid of?” His voice is quiet and reassuring, trying to soothe her raging heartbeat. Hands clasp her face, and Tom leans in perilously close, his warm breath fogging her mind and drugging her veins. “Tell me.”

She doesn’t know where to look, what to say -  _ it’s a rather difficult thing to explain, and I really haven’t the foggiest how to _ . So Kate does the next logical thing - she runs.

In a twist on Cinderella from the proverbial ball, she heads straight for the castle, deliberating between heading for the dormitory or the Head Boy & Girl’s Common Room. Her dormitory is a minefield, her roommates the mines - besides, they never made for good barriers against Tom, who could waltz in with a smile and a flattering word if he wished to.

Their Common Room was no better, but at least there was no audience.  _ The Common Room it is. _ She runs up the stairs to the seventh floor, quickly providing the password as she sits down on the sofa, ballet sandals off. 

She knows her face is on fire, blood rushing in, and puts her cold arms against them to soothe the heat.  _ Why did I run away? I shouldn’t have run away - that was silly and horribly cowardly and so, so idiotic. I looked like some silly girl who can’t even handle a school infatuation.  _

_ It was just a kiss, stop getting so worked up about it _ .

She picks up a book, absently staring at the pages of… which is it? Macbeth. Coherent thoughts jumble up with a maelstrom of panic and confusion and some form of elation, and after what seems like an hour later, the door opens. She tosses the book aside, rubbing a hand across her face.

“I’m sorry if I did anything to cause you any form of hurt.” He sits beside her at a respectable distance, all limbs pulled in to himself.

“No - I’m being ridiculous over a trifle.” The two sit in complete silence under the lamplight for a while, and he places his coat over her as he notices her rub cold hands over freezing arms.

“I fully understand if you harbor no such affections towards me - people make mistakes in the heat of the moment, and if you consider this as such, I will put it behind myself and ignore it as an emotion-fueled folly of mine.”

“And if I say that I was fully willing to do what I did, yet I am terrified of my actions?” He inches closer, encasing her bandaged hand in both of his, pressing a slow kiss on her exposed fingers.

“Then maybe I can ease your fear.” So she leans in, letting him kiss her again.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt like the Yule Ball deserved to be seen from Tom's perspective as well, so here we go.

_**Picture perfect**_.

Tom had timed the entire evening to ensure that his plan would flow perfectly - he arrived at the doors of the Hall with ten minutes to spare, greeting the men and the ladies, and then stopping in front of the lady of the moment. To say that she looked pretty would be an understatement.

Kate stood out amongst all the other girls, and not because of his internal bias - the sheer white sleeveless gown gave off a weak halo, and her hair tied in an elegant braid gave the impression of a mountain veela. _While they were in their human form, that is_.

The peculiar look on her face informed him that he had been staring at her for far too long, and he offered an arm in appropriate fashion, the two positioning themselves at the beginning of the lineup.

With Dippet's speech done, the two commenced the dance, Tom sweeping her across the winter wonderland that was the Great Hall. He informed her of his opinions about her, and the girl fought to keep down a blush. _A few more, and I assure your face will be on fire, Summers_. He casually looked around the hall, the Durmstrang Head Boy sharing a look before he danced away with the Beauxbaton Head Girl - _good man_. As for their Hogwarts friends, Abraxas had been giving her a rather improper look - eyes greedily roving over the lady, and Tom made a mental note to keep the Malfoy away from this business.

Walburga smiled genially as she danced with him, but he could feel the annoyance bubbling in her brain like a boiling cauldron. "What an evening, isn't it?" He returned her sentiment with a charming smile, twirling the woman around to drive his point home.

"And you are but a beautiful addition to this night." Unlike most women, such comments never reduced Walburga Black to titters - she knew how to hold her poise. But talented as she was, a woman like Walburga wasn't the ideal partner for his mission. For one, she held societal norms at a level of importance he did not - and she was not a woman who would disregard them under any circumstances. _The Blacks are a proud and obstinate family after all, with their heads buried so deep in heirlooms and coffers that money and society take the form of power_. And she, of all people, would not understand the power of a teacher - something that Dumbledore, much to his eternal woe, rightfully understood.

"Katherine is quite an engaging creature, isn't she?"

"An exquisite person, no doubt." And she was - her family history, coupled with the girl's blatant disregard of society and unconventional thought process (which he'd had the luxury to look in, thank Merlin for that injury) made her different than almost any girl he'd ever met. _Minerva McGonagall might be a fair match, but the girl has too many morals to uphold to attain glory_.

"You seem to have a soft spot for her, Tom."

"Intelligent company is scarce, Walburga, and in quality like hers even sparser - you should make an effort to better acquaint yourself with her."

"I have had seven years to know her, thank you very much, but if you say, I shall try." Another one of Walburga's shortcomings - her sycophancy in regards to him. She never argued with him for long, never disagreed sharply, which could lead to questioning thoughts he may never learn, and that is a dangerous trait for followers to possess. _Which is why I mastered Legilimency_.

They swapped partners again, and the Head Girl was back in his arms, looking every inch as radiant as he left her. "Enjoying yourself?"

"Well, this is quite fun, but I cannot imagine myself doing this on a regular basis." He laughed lightly, placing a hand on her back - of course she couldn't; people like them were meant to be on the forefront of change.

"You are not a lady who belongs solely in ballrooms - they could never contain you in one of those." She seems to find the statement intriguing, eyebrow raised, and her arm has now shifted to a more comfortable position around his neck than the stiff presence on his shoulder.

"This doesn't feel cage-like." Tom leans down to her ear, and a barely perceptible shiver passes through her as his hand shifts to her neck.

"Well, see yourself doing this thrice a week." After contemplation and an evidently distasteful conclusion, she turns to look up at him, impressed.

"You are a fair judge of character."

"You know, it feels terribly nice to not be the reason why everyone envies me right now." For some reason, his statement takes her by surprise - and not with the intent of being coquettish. If her face is any indication, she is genuinely surprised to consider that she is the more desirable person in the same room as him. "I bet you ten Galleons any boy in this hall would be more than willing to trade places with me." And of course, those hounds would be.

"I'm afraid I'll be a terrible bore," she quips. "I'll drive any of them away with the chatter of spells and homework and NEWTS." _Such a babe in the woods_. This woman truly has no idea of the power of sex appeal or does not see it as a defining factor in her personality. He favours the latter.

"I don't mean to be sexist, Kate, but no amount of boring drivel will be able to keep a man away from someone as divine as the dress she is clad in." It is the blatant truth - all men (with his exclusion) would willingly to listen to her quote Proust if she looked like this at that time.

This time Kate fails, and her face colours the shade of a rose, inching towards tomato red. "I hope people have told you that you are a terrible flirt." He pulls her hand towards him, holding it to his face - now her face is tomato red, and she tries to not look away.

"What will I have to do to get the next few dances from you?"

"Well, I have a favour to ask, which we will discuss over the next dance." She takes his leave, and while he begins to dance with Walburga, she stands by the sides, soon approached by Alden Greengrass. _Which means that I may have to move a little faster than anticipated._

They talk for a while before entering the floor again, and he keeps a close watch on Greengrass' thoughts, which are now heading in the direction he expected. Ten minutes or so have passed, and he can see her grow uncomfortable.

"The Rosiers have a New Year's Ball planned -"

"I beg your pardon, Walburga, but I'll have to take your leave." He leaves an irate Black behind, heading over to Kate, who looks more than relieved to see him. Alden, thankfully for her and a little disappointingly for him, misses the relief on her face.

"Just tell Slughorn you will change your career track to the Ministry's. There is a rather lucrative reward in store for us. You see, I require the assistance of a gifted student to aid me in a rather difficult potion I'm brewing. And since it is out of curriculum, the process must go undetected." That interests him greatly, and of course he will be more than willing to assist her in this.

"Consider the task done." He picks up a glass of firewhisky from the Teachers' Table (who have thankfully not noticed his presence or charitably ignored it) and heads for the Potions Master, a warm smile on his face.

"Wonderful night, isn't it?" Thrusting the glass in his hand with a genial shove, he makes a show of looking back at Kate before beginning. "Sir, I have thought long and hard about it, and I would say that like always, your words haven't failed me. The Ministry would be the ideal place to use and expand upon my talents and skills."

"That Summers girl got around to you, didn't she?" The man nudged him, giving a conspiratorial wink, and he gave that token bashful smile of a boy being caught.

"Kate certainly did have quite the hand in this. She talks sense into me more often that I like to admit."

"Perhaps the potion had been brewed improperly that day." Tom forced another token bashful look on his face, thinking back to the day he'd smelt that cauldron full of Amortentia.

When he had smelt nothing.

At first, he felt he had mucked up (or more likely, Slughorn had), but time and again he tested it by sticking his nose into various correctly brewed cauldrons, and each time nothing came back to him.

"I'd like to speak to the victorious lady, if you may allow, my boy."

"Certainly, sir." And he walked back to her, informing that the task was a success. "He would like to speak to you." There was a drunken smile on the man's face as the two approached him.

"Well done, Miss Summers. If I had known that the task would come so easy to you, I would have set a lesser prize for you to win."

"Surely you wouldn't renege on your words, Professor?" The professor gave an even more drunk smile, shaking his head repeatedly.

"Absolutely not, my dear." This crossed off his list, he proceeded to the final task of the night.

Tom takes her uninjured hand and pulls her out into the snowy quadrangle, which is mercifully empty.

"I supposed this made for a better ambience," he says, hands placed on the small of her back as they move to the music coming from the hall. "After all, discussions such as this should never be held in the glare of the public." Of course not - he wants her unfiltered reaction.

"Such as what, Tom?" There is no makeup on her face - it is as clear as the sky above and soft as the snow settling in his hair.

"Would you not let me kiss you, Kate?" And do his words stun her. He can hear her breath, feel the hesitation off of her. "You are intelligent and brave, imperfect in most perfect of ways. Please, my dear - will you not let me kiss you?"

It makes him giddy, seeing the power his words have on her - the power _**he**_ has on her. A few seconds later, she gives a jerky nod and he leans in, letting soft, untainted lips touch his. At first, she doesn't respond, but then he feels her mouth move against his, and Tom Riddle is drunk on nothing.

There are no narcotics and alcohol involved, no potions coated slyly on lip glosses, but he is drunk; his hand grips her chin, the other losing itself in her hair, and then she pulls him closer with her arms snaking around his neck, and his self-control rapidly slips out of his fingers like fine sand.

He removes his hand from her hair and grips her waist - there is no distance to close any more, really, but all that hunger and desire has to be let out somehow, and while there is no neediness from the other end, he is ready to devour her right there. Lightheadedness forces him to pull away, but he takes in her flushed face and swollen lips, the rapidly blinking eyes trained on him as he kisses every inch of her face that he can. _Mine_.

"What are you so afraid of?" He keeps his voice quiet and calm, leaning as close as he can without kissing her again. "Tell me." And before he can draw up a list of possible replies, Kate Summers takes off for the stairs like Cinderella. _Don't follow - not yet_.

When he walks back into the Hall, Erik has a conspicuous grin on his face, and Greengrass looks like someone shattered his heart and set fire to the fragments. Walburga and Abraxas are nowhere to be seen, thank Merlin - he doesn't need the additional commentary. So for the next one hour, he eats little and talks a lot and drinks nothing - he feels drunk and drugged as he is already, head mildly hazy from the past events.

After that, he's off for the seventh floor - the dormitory isn't a place she would go, and the library was chained shut. Tom checks the Room of Requirement first, and upon finding no one, goes to his final destination.

"Gingerbread." Helga Hufflepuff beams broadly, the door swinging open. She's sitting there with her feet on the sofa, eyes darting across a worn copy of Macbeth. The book is tossed aside and Kate impatiently rubs a hand across her face, looking troubled but not scared. _Good_.

He sits at a respectable distance, giving no indication to make any movement in her direction. "I'm sorry if I did anything to cause you any form of hurt." She lets out a huff, rubbing her hands across bright red arms, so he takes off his coat and puts it around her.

"No - I'm being ridiculous over a trifle."

"I fully understand if you harbour no such affections towards me - people make mistakes in the heat of the moment, and if you consider this as such, I will put it behind myself and ignore it as an emotion-fueled folly of mine." Because he is nothing if not considerate of the lady's feelings.

"And if I say that I was fully willing to do what I did, yet I am scared of my actions?" Her voice is low and slightly shaky, but she means what she says. He inches closer, encasing her bandaged hand in both of his, pressing a slow kiss on her exposed fingers.

"Then maybe I can ease your fear." She leans in, letting him kiss her again and now, he doesn't hold himself back.

They back up into the sofa as her fingers grip his hair and his hands grip her face, and she bites down on his lower lip, eliciting a growl. He can feel her fingers leave bruises on his clavicle and neck, and he moves a hand down to her shoulder, the sheer fabric smoothly slipping off. Her gasps mingle in his growls as she seats herself on the arm of the piece of furniture. _God help me if this woman doesn't stop here because I certainly will not_.

She pulls her lips away from his, eyes shining brightly as she takes a look at the clock, fixes her clothes, puts on her shoes and leaves the room like a flurry. Tom surveys himself in the mirror facing him - he's nursing a bloody lip, a thumb running across the afflicted area. The bruises are prominent as of now but will fade by morning, and he is disheveled and dazed and completely, utterly breathless.

Once the bleeding stops and he looks presentable, he goes back to the dungeons - none of his roommates is in yet, and he changes quickly, shooting straight into bed. He slows his breaths and shuts his eyes, trying to will his heartbeat to a level he can fall asleep at.

_If only I could achieve that._


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> College takes up quite a sizeable chunk in a person's life. But without further adieu, the next chapter.

_**Nothing feels different when she wakes up**_.

She's still the same old person, with the same likes and dislikes, the same sense of judgement with the same reactions to everything. Unlike those silly novels and films, there is no light feeling or enhanced beauty in the day; Hogwarts is still its same snowy, overcast self.

 _Merlin alone knows what potions or drugs these people were on_.

Not only the guest schools, but also students who wish to spend Christmas with their family are going back. Those who live in the more sensitive Muggle-heavy areas (like her) are staying at school - there are no official reports, but the Luftwaffe may strike cities in the coming days. Hugs and handshakes are being exchanged everywhere - there are promises of keeping in touch, of visits and regular letters.

"Erik - do keep in touch." The person in question nods, patting Riddle on the back.

"See you soon, Kate," Erik shakes her hand, then pats her on the shoulder. "Do write to me as often as you can."

"I will," she smiles brightly. He then pulls her aside, lowering his voice.

"And tell me if he ever treats you wrong or gives you any grief. You two make an ideal pair, but humans are fickle." She looks at him, a puzzled look on her face and he smiles knowingly. "You two weren't the only ones out in the snow last night."

Alden, the Rosiers, Blacks and Malfoys were returning back to their respective residences, and once she had bid adieu to her friends, Kate retreated to the Great Hall for breakfast. Including her and Tom, there were about fifty of them at the table.

"So, the agenda for today?" Tom asked, sipping on a glass of water.

"Pardon?"

"Slughorn - the potion."  _Ah - that_.

"Tomorrow - he has locked the apothecary and gone out to Hogsmeade, it seems. I checked in after waking up." He nodded. Rest of breakfast went in silence, the two heading for the common room afterwards.

"If you need to see me, I shall be in the library." Tom leaned in, placing a chaste peck on her cheek before exiting the room, satchel filled with numerous parchment rolls.  _Well, this is new_.

Kate went back to her dormitory room and got out her textbooks and the index cards that she had prepared for the NEWTS, revising first from the textbooks and the class notes before moving on to the index cards. Defense Against The Dark Arts being her strongest subject, she set Merrythought's notes aside before moving on to Astronomy - a subject she took purely for personal interest, but was now worried she might not get an O in.

"Is this young lady planning on abandoning Christmas Lunch?" She looked up at the voice, Tom leaning by the doorway.

"Oh, no - I'll just pack this up," she muttered out a reply, mind half on Jupiter's moons and half on the remaining 66 of the 88 constellations. She shuffled the textbooks into her satchel, waving her wand at the parchments. "Let's go."

"What has got your mind in a muddle?"

"Huh? Oh - uh, Astronomy. I still have three-quarters of the star chart to learn properly, and we barely have weeks to the exam."

"We have four months before the practicals commence, Kate. I'm certain you can give yourself some breathing room."

"I am," she replied, waving her hand across at the corridor around them. "There is all this room I have to myself to breathe. Plenty of room." He shook his head, lips pressed together to stifle a laugh.

"You cannot be that miserable at the subject."

"A - assured. E - I'll make it somehow. O? Very skeptical."

"Then tonight's session becomes even more imperative." The suggestive look did nothing to ease her mind, and she gave Tom a suspicious look as they took their seats in the hall. "If this is your method of extracting exactly what we shall be doing tonight, you are losing a battle here."

"But not the war." She dug into a piece of roast chicken, studying having made her hungrier than she anticipated.

"Since you got me to publicly lie to Slughorn, I might give you the benefit of doubt on that."

They finished lunch quickly, heading back to the dungeon. "You've probably lied to Slughorn all the time. I haven't exactly held the sky by achieving that."

"You bought yourself unfettered access to the dungeon -"

"Because the professor underestimated me, Riddle. You are not that difficult or special."

"But you are the latter, Summers." She stopped by the door to the common room, shaking her head as she provided the password.

"Stop slipping veiled compliments - I might get used to them."

"And that we can never have," he flopped down on the sofa, smiling at her. "Heavens forbid Katherine Summers gets sure of her capabilities. Gods alone know what shall await humanity after that."

"And Merlin knows what shall befall the world if Tom Riddle ever attains the pinnacle of his powers," she mocked, extending her arms in a manner of making a proclamation before she sat down on the adjacent armchair. "I dearly wish to get back to studying."

"But food and the accompanying laziness make for excellent sleeping draughts."

"Not sleep, per se, but ennui."

"How about I quiz you?"  _Hm_.

"Which subject?"

"Let's start with your strongest suit." She took out the Defense Against The Dark Arts set of index cards, thrusting them in his hand.

"Here you go." Tom propped his now-shoeless feet on one end of the long sofa, shuffling through the cards.

"Defining characteristics of an Inferius."

"They are resurrected corpses, white cloudy eyes without irises. They possess the physical characters of the reanimated individual with the exception of weight - they are all gaunt and skeletal."

"Couldn't have put it better myself. Now, counter curses to the Imperius curse."

"None, but Occlumens are less susceptible and find it easier to resist. Also, wizards skilled in Legilimency cast a spell of stronger intensity compared to most other wizards."

"Perfect. Dementors are created by."

"Killing an individual towards whom the killer possesses no previous animosity or grudges and with no other motivation other than murder and murder alone and derives pleasure from the act, making the act purely sadistic and evil in nature. Also, certain dark charms need to be cast in concealment to cement their creation and give them a corporeal form."

"Patronuses are fluid and not ideal identifiers of a wizard - give reasons."

"Since Patronuses spring from the strongest positive memory of the caster, these memories may change over time, hereby affecting appearance of the animal or the animal itself. Besides, for wizards whose strongest positive memory is an individual, the Patronus takes the form of the Patronus of the concerned individual, which takes away the essence of uniqueness and hence doesn't serve as an accurate identifier for a particular wizard."

"All right," he set the cards aside. "Now let us move to Potions. What colour is the correctly brewed potion of the Draught of Living Death?"

"Pale lilac upon brewing, then clear."

"Antidote?"

"Wiggenweld Potion."

"Olfactory indicator?"

"None."

"Veritaserum - colour?"

"Colourless."

"Olfactory indicator?"

"None."

"Antidote?" At that, she grins.

"None." But she cannot help but add, "until January 1945," and at that Riddle shares a matching grin.

"Amortentia - distinguishing features."

"Mother-of-pearl sheen, characteristic spirals in clockwise direction."

"Olfactory?"

"Smells like the things you love most, and one characteristic smell of your true love, or one of the contenders."

He cocks an eyebrow. "Mind telling me yours?"

"Petrichor, the smell of new books."

"And?"

"That is a secret you will uncover in due time. Mind telling me yours?"

"Thunderstorms, mint."

"And?"

"We shall decipher soon." He looked around, then sat up, lacing his shoes. "Meet me at the Astronomy Tower after 10." With that, Tom exited the common room, leaving her with six hours still to dinner.

At dinner, Professor Dippet greeted the students with a bright smile and tables littered with food, gifts and crackers. A second-year beside her twisted one of the candy-cane coloured crackers, chocolate frogs bounding out of the smoke and off the table - Riddle was nowhere to be seen.

She read for a while after, then headed for the Astronomy Tower as her watch showed 9:45, climbing the winding steps to the balcony. Leaning by the rails was Tom, looking out at the mostly clear sky, moonlight filtering through the clouds. At the sound of her steps, he turned, beckoning her to join him. She walked over, cold nipping at her face. "Not hungry?" He shook his head, turning to face her.

"That is Orion," he pointed out the constellation. "And that," he pointed at the leftmost star, "is Betelgeuse." A quick swish of his wand, and a blanket had been laid out on the stone floor of the balcony. "Which constellations do you know well?" They sat down, and she recited the list she had learned so far, stopping at Cassiopeia. Tom unfurled a large chart, the constellations neatly drawn and labeled. "Now follow me." They went through a series of mnemonics for each, the one for Ophiuchus reducing her to laughter.

"What's in there?" Kate picked up the bag beside him, gently poking it.

"I heard it on the grapevine that the Head Girl loves Fortescue's caramel torte, so Abraxas did me one of the many favours he owes." The gesture was heartfelt, and it touched Kate to a degree she was uncomfortable to admit. They stood up, Kate letting the icy wind cool her face.

"That third scent was juniper soap, you know," he murmured, warm hands holding her now-chilly face. "And I smelt a great degree of it in the common room."

"Well," she gathered up whatever vestiges of courage lingered, "I smelt mint and pine aftershave from that cauldron, and my nose can detect buckets off of you," and pressed her lips against his, the knot of doubt loosening a little with their warmth and the taste of salted caramel.

_There is no studying happening here now._


	15. Chapter 15

_**Invention is tedious work**_.

Tom started off Boxing Day with breakfast and ideas buzzing as to how the antidote was being brewed - Veritaserum was a necessary evil, because there was a finite amount of energy he could expend in reading people's minds before his began to tire.

Kate hadn't appeared for breakfast, so naturally he assumed that she would be in the dungeons. And in the dungeons she was.

"Oh, come in," she beckoned at the seat beside her, waving her hand at the cauldron in front of her. "I've just added the dragon blood, but I'm not sure if the results will come out right. To be honest, I have no idea what the result even should be. I've been testing it with half-finished Veritaserum cauldrons," she jutted a thumb at the many student concoctions lying around.

He peered into the cauldron she was working on, and like his colleague, had no idea of what they were doing. "Care to tell me the entire list of ingredients used so far?" She pushed a sheet of parchment towards him, listing the so-far successful ingredients and methods.

_Three drops of dragon blood - that should counteract the moonstone in Veritaserum, but will overpower other ingredients like the powdered bicorn, rendering it ineffective._

"Make the drops of dragon blood two in the previous step, then check for efficacy with a forty percent brewed solution." She rose from her seat, first clearing her cauldron and then replacing it with a vial of the previous step's sample, multiplying the amount to fit the cauldron. The potion bubbled as the two drops were added, the deep violet shade settling into a pale lilac, Kate taking out a couple of drops into a small phial. With a few drops from a forty percent solution, all colour vanished from the cauldron - they could see the bottom of the vessel.

She took out a few drops from the cauldron, dropping them on the wooden bench, then sniffing after nothing happened. "Smells like water." He leaned down, dipping a corner of his kerchief in the small puddle - when nothing happened, Tom ran a finger through it, placing the drop on the tip of his tongue.

"Water."

Kate dragged her hands across her face, sighing in relief. "Oh, thank Merlin." She stared at the now-empty cauldron, face drawn in concentration.

"We can use Salamander tails to cancel the Adder's Fork."

"But the amount required will be egregious," she muttered, pacing across the length of the table. "One Adder's Fork will be rightly balanced out by six full-grown salamander tails, and then there is the matter of time - it will take more than eight days just for the tails to properly mix."

"Let this cool till tomorrow and check the library for now." She nodded, the two heading towards the aforementioned, where Kate gave a hasty greeting to the librarian before diving into one of the stacks.

Four hours into his religious reading and note-making of _Practical Potioneering and Invention_ , there was a tap on his shoulder. "Psst, Tom." He raised his eyebrows at her, and she tugged at his sleeve. "Come on, let's leave, or Dearborn will throw me out."

"So you found it?" He crossed his arms across his chest, and she nodded enthusiastically, robe sleeves flapping around.

"Moke spleens - you only need one, and its compatibility with the other ingredients is very high."

"Isn't it quite weak when combined with bicorn?"

"Yes, but the Styx river water acts as a strengthening agent, so - oh come on, let's just leave, I've thoroughly annoyed her as is." A sharp tug, and she dragged him out of the library and onto a staircase.

"What has come into you?" Kate grinned as she practically bounded down the stairs, ponytail bouncing along.

"A deluxe sugar quill and three cups of coffee I swiped from the Great Hall in a charmed phial." Upon hearing, Tom took a deep sigh and massaged the bridge of his nose - _caffeine and sugar_ ; _may Merlin have mercy on me_. "But I still haven't figured out the final ingredient. It's been three months, and I haven't come up with even a theoretical alternative."

"For that, my good lady, I have an answer." She crossed her arms, eyes narrowed at him as they stood at the bottom of the staircase, her foot tapping impatiently upon the stone floor. "Just add a gobletful of aconite extract once the penultimate solution cools down, and you will have completed your antidote." Kate smiled, and for a moment, stood with a rather amused look on her face. "What?"

"Just that there are some things I wouldn't do drunk on firewhisky."

"Such as?"

"Meet me at the pitch after lunch."

_I just hope no bones get broken in this endeavour._

* * *

"So taking a complete novice flying is your idea of things you would never do drunk? Well, you do have your priorities right." He surveyed the empty pitch, the sun shining through the overcast sky as they walked towards the grounds.

"You're not going to break any bones, and you certainly are not going to die. Just sit behind me, or if you find that too emasculating, take a broom and ride alongside me."

"What makes you think I might find it emasculating?"

"Because should I mention this alternative to some other boy, the most likely answer would be a guffaw and a stubborn shake of the head."

"I don't wish to perish without passing my NEWTS."

"And that you will achieve - just sit down behind me and keep your hands firmly around my torso at all times." He looks at her - windswept hair and bright pink cheeks, wrapped up in her green and silver scarf and dressed in Quidditch robes. "Or just sit in the stands. I need to practice for the coming semi-final anyways." Kate mounted the broom, shooting off the ground while he studied Charms.

Tom routinely looks up from his book to ensure that a repeat of that Quidditch match will not be required, but she is completely in control of the broom and the situation.

Thirty minutes later, a strong gust blows his hair and scarf violently off his face and his book to the side, and he finds her hovering beside him, beckoning to the broom. "Just once, Tom. You never venture, you never gain." _Dogged determination certainly is her strong suit._

"I'll come down to the pitch." A bright smile, and she shoots off to the ground, wind displacing his scarf off its restored position.

"Now, mount it, and do as I said before." He does as told, gingerly seating himself on the broom.

"And how will I be rewarded for this adventure of yours?"

"You will," she grins as they reach a considerable height, "soon." And she zips off higher, and Tom has to restrain himself from making any sound, squeezing his eyes shut. "Come on, open your eyes - the sight is worth it." She is right.

Hogwarts looks different at this height - he can see the shining peaks of the towers and the snow covered buildings, the filtered sunlight illuminating them with a white halo. "It is beautiful up here."

"I know - now, hold the broom tightly with both hands." He raises an eyebrow and she looks at him skeptically. "Just do as I say." As soon as he has adjusted his hold on the wood, she slides off the broom and it shakes violently for a second as she remounts it, facing him now.

"Do you want me to list exactly how many things were insane out of all that you just did?" His voice is tight and breathless, _because I had taken it for a certainty that this crazy woman was going to murder me midair_.

"You can, but after this," and she pulls his face closer, cold chapped lips flooding with warmth as she kisses him. They are suspended midair and the sun's rays are shining on their faces, and of all the times Tom has ever kissed a person, this is the most unique and exhilarating of them all. "You were saying?" She asks with a soft smile and he shakes his head, wrapping an arm around her waist.

"You are objectively crazy."

"And isn't that the best part?" This time, he leans in, Kate smiling as he presses his lips against hers.

_Trying to recruit her to his cause certainly has its perks._


	16. Chapter 16

**_Back to usual_ ** .

With Christmas break over and students back in the castle, life has returned to normalcy at  Hogwarts. On this particular morning in January, Kate is studying Charms at breakfast (she is up a bit early today) when Alden slides in beside her, as upbeat as ever.

“Practice today at five. I came up with quite a few new strategies over the hols - Orion already knows because I Owled him, but the rest of the team needs to have a proper sit down.”

“Speaking of hols,” she began, “how did your holidays go?”

“Oh, the Rosiers had their annual Christmas ball. I had barely gotten home and stuffed any food in me when Mother marched up with a pair of new dress robes and a standing order to be ready by six.”

“Anything interesting?” 

“If you count Cygnus Black drunkenly singing ‘Three Wise Warlocks’ in front of the guests, then yes, else nothing of note. I caught Druella snogging Malfoy in one of the closets.”

“As expected.” 

“As expected.” He stops to take another spoonful of fruit and yogurt when Tom walks in. “Good morning, Riddle.”

“Morning, Greengrass.” He turns to her. “Summers.”

“Morning, Riddle - running a little late, are we?” 

“Professor Dumbledore’s essays - had to stay up a lot longer to complete the limitations of Animagi. I trust Astronomy is going well?”

“Much better, thank you - I’ve mastered 70 and will be done with the last 18 by tomorrow.”

“Glad to be of assistance.” He looks at her, a mischievous grin on his face, and she desperately wants to reach across the table and hit him on the head to stop that. “Well, I must get going now - Kate, a word, please?” She follows him outside, that grin still plastered on his face.

“You horrible, no good boy.”

“I’m certain Greengrass can handle me amicably talking to you.”

“I thought you and I have a reputation to uphold.”

“This one-woman man will do his best to act unattached.”

“You better - I don’t want Walburga to strangle me in my sleep.”

“In more pressing matters,” he curls her fingers around a slim, long vial, a clear liquid encased in it. “There are different strengths of Veritaserum that I’ve stored in the Room of Requirement. Meet me outside the portrait of Barnabas the Barmy after Quidditch practice.” She returns to the Hall, where Alden watches her with curiosity.

“Headmaster Dippet wants us to do a sweep of the upper floors tonight.” The rest of the day passes in a blur, and after a satisfactory Quidditch practice, she heads in her playing uniform to the seventh floor.

“It’s a miracle how you all manage to sweat buckets in January,” he comments before pacing across the wall thrice, an ornate door materialising in the wall. “Here we go.” She walks through the entrance into what looks like a makeshift potions classroom. “Been here long before me,” he announces as they walk towards the many cauldrons lined up. “The rest of our antidote is here,” Tom motions towards the cauldron set aside.

Kate is digesting the fact that firstly, the Room of Requirement isn’t a myth, and secondly, she is standing in what could be one of the infinite iterations of this magical wonder. “What other forms of the room have you utilised?”

“Mostly the one that acts as a quiet space for studying, but this and one that acts as a Charms and Transfiguration practice area.”

“How do you get in?”

“Just think of what you desperately need, walk past three times, and it shall appear.” 

“So you desperately need this spot on a routine basis.” 

“I prefer to employ the term determinedly.” They spend an hour or so testing strengths and the effect of the antidote, Kate logging results into a diary. “I suppose we can move to practical trials soon?”

“By February end latest - I plan to cease all secondary activities from then and focus solely on NEWTS.”

“Well said.” He gives her a small, genuine smile as they exit. “I will see you at patrol.”

“Astronomy lesson?”

“Bring your chart.” 

A fortnight passes by in the same rhythm of classes, studies and practice, the only interjection being their semi-final against Hufflepuff, which Slytherin wins with a narrow margin. They are three days from the final now, and she is heading to the common from the dormitory when there is a thud and an audible crack which sounds ominously like bones breaking.

_ Goddamned fourth years, _ she thinks angrily as Kate opens the door to the Slytherin common room, the sight greeting her a tad more disconcerting, because the Head Boy has just gotten his nose broken and lip split by their Quidditch Captain.

Orion is trying to restrain Alden while Abraxas pushes Tom’s wand hand down, the latter glaring dangerously. “What is happening?” The quartet turns to her.

“Greengrass attacked Tom over something.”

“And what is that something, Malfoy?” 

“Well, that’s what we’re at a loss for, because I don’t remember Riddle here saying anything.” 

“Black, Malfoy, could you clear out for five minutes, please?” Abraxas opens his mouth to protest but Orion is the smarter of the two, taking his friend along out the door. “What did he say to you?” She turns to Alden, who looks livid.

“Good Merlin, you can’t ask me to repeat that - it’s not something you discuss in civil company.” 

“Since you two behaved like a pair of ruffians, I hardly think we’re in civil company.” Tom steps forward, his taller frame imposing upon her.

“If Greengrass hadn’t raised his fist, perhaps I wouldn’t have been tempted to give him that gash across his cheek.” She looks back at him, eyes flashing.

“You are about to be in a major violation of school rules,  _ Riddle _ . Step back.”

“It will the Head Boy’s word against the Captain’s,” he replies coolly and she smiles humorlessly at him, in the same sharklike manner as his.

“And it will be the Head Girl’s word against the two accused parties.”  _ You are just a boy I have snogged - Alden Greengrass is my best friend _ . He gets the silent threat, stepping back. “What did you say?”

“I did not utter a single word.”  _ This is a tricky situation. _

“Why did this happen?”

“It concerned you,” Alden says, and she turns back to him. “And I couldn’t hear or see what he said a while back without acting upon it.”  _ What does he mean by see? _

“I appreciate the gesture, but I can defend my honour myself, Greengrass.” He doesn’t answer, choosing to slam the common room behind him as he leaves. She turns to Tom, placing her fingers on his nose. “ _ Tergeo. _ ” The blood clears up. “ _ Episkey _ .” The bones rearrange themselves, nose restored to its original condition, and she withdraws her hand from his face. “Don’t make me shove Veritaserum down your throat.”

“He asked me about Christmas Eve after the ball - I replied honestly.”

“You could sugarcoat it to a tolerable level.”

“I would want my best friend to know nothing but the whole truth, and given the closeness between the two of you, I would have wagered he would take it sportingly.”

“People suffering from heartbreak take nothing sportingly.”

“That is yours to remedy, Kate. I am willing to take punches but not your unsubstantiated blame, and it would be better if we had that explicitly outlined in front of us.”

“Thank you for your candor, and I would suggest that we keep our interactions to a minimum, at least in public. I don’t wish to risk any more fights.” He laughs dryly, looking at her in disdain.

“I am not ashamed or afraid of my affections, but if you are, then sure, I’ll toe this line of yours,  _ my dear _ .” The words prick her, and she lets them sink in as she heads for the grounds in search of Alden. 

_ I’m not ashamed of anything - right? _


	17. Chapter 17

_**Finals make her jittery**_.

Be it the impending NEWTS or the deciding match for the Cup, Kate gets uneasy and jumpy when the big day approaches, and on the morning of the match she forces herself to swallow toast and a glass of pumpkin, Alden goading her to eat more. "You cannot expect a single piece of toast to carry you through the match, not when the weather's this vicious and we play against Gryffindor."

She glares at him but takes another piece of toast anyhow. He is right, _but do I look like I want to admit that right now?_

Kate hoists her broom and heads for the grounds, mentally repeating the play for today's game. The stands are packed and the two houses in contention are rowdy and enthusiastic, chants reverberating across the stadium.

Alden gathers them in a circle on their end of the pitch, anxious and excited faces looking back at each other. "Let's keep that cup where it is," he grins at everyone before they disband to take their positions. As soon as the whistle blows, the Snitch takes off and so do the two Seekers. Kate's eyes are searching for the small golden ball, but it is nowhere to be seen - for now.

"And it's another goal for Gryffindor! The score is now 60-20 folks, and Slytherin needs to do some quick recovery for their sake!"

 _Two and a half hours gone_ , and Gryffindor's Seeker is making rounds of the ground, staring aimlessly around him, and well, she's doing the same too, because the Snitch isn't even in her sights, forget reach.

"Better make it quick!" Alden pases her as Malfoy and Black chase the Quaffle, and the urgency isn't lost on her. Another ten minutes pass until she spots that glimmer of gold, and lets out a tiny shout, following the shimmer of the moving wings. The Snitch shoots up, and Kate chases after it, her Gryffindor counterpart doing the same.

A jumble of bodies as they collide, and she pushes the Seeker off her broom and onto his and resumes the chase. Two minutes later, she's within grasping reach of the Snitch and a force nearly knocks her off course. _Oh no you don't_.

Gryffindor's seeker is smirking, taunting as his fingers come dangerously close to touching the snitch, and she lets out an angry growl as she shoots towards him, ramming the tail end of her broom into his. The manoeuvre knocks him off, but his hand still shoots out towards the Snitch, and she's not sure whose fingers have closed upon it first.

"A disputed capture!"

Both teams are looking up anxiously at them - this isn't something that has happened since a long time.

Mister Matthews calls them both down on the ground, and takes the Snitch in his hands. "Okay - Miss Summers, Mister Lewis, each hold out your right hand. Mister Lewis, glove off." He pulls his glove off, and Mister Matthews drops the Snitch in his hand. The ball flutters for a moment before falling limp - Matthews stares for a minute at the object, but after no motion, takes it from him, and Kate doesn't know whether that means a yes or a no.

"Miss Summers, please." She takes her glove off, and as the Snitch is dropped into her hand, it flutters wildly for a while before falling limp. "Wait." A moment later, the Snitch cracks open.

"Well, it is decided - Miss Summers successfully captured the Snitch," he announces. "Slytherin wins the Quidditch Cup!"

The stadium lets out a cheer, like a collective breath that was being held, and her teammates crowd around her, cheering and yelling and thumping her back. She gleefully looks around at the other, and Alden passes the Quidditch Cup to her as they collectively let out a victory cheer. Kate looks at the trophy fondly, kissing the Cup before she passes it around to the others.

She looks around in the cheering crowd for Tom and contrary to her expectations, finds him there, standing at the edge of the ground. He's turning to leave, so Kate tosses aside her broom and sprints towards him. "Riddle!"

Tom and a few others turn around, looking at her disheveled and panting form, _and I am not ashamed, not of how I look or of how I feel_. "Congratulations." When she nods and waves her hand dismissively, his genial look fades to give place to a quizzical one, and _I don't have time for all this_.

"You're not always right, you moron." She can feel people's heads turn as she grabs his face in both hands and kisses him fiercely, propriety and etiquette gone with the wind blowing through her hair. A few moments later, he wraps his arms around her waist, and she feels her feet leave the ground.

"And I adore just how passionately you prove me wrong." A quick look at the back, and she can see that almost all eyes are on them.

"Now kiss me."

"What?" Kate laughs lightly at his look of mild surprise and raises an eyebrow - they both know exactly what she is referring to, but Tom wants to play coy and she is okay with being brash for the day.

"I am not ashamed of anything about myself, so shut up and publicly snog me, you utterly self righteous smug moron." His reply is in the form of another feet-lifting heart-racing kiss, and she knows someone definitely let out a hoot, but _oh well_.

_We're going to hell together - might as well go shamelessly._

* * *

_**Quite a match.** _

Tom hadn't expected a disputed capture to liven things up, but what he hadn't anticipated more was that rather public display of affection. _But that was putting it a little politely_. What it really was was him openly snogging Slytherin Seeker and Head Girl of Hogwarts in front of almost the entire school, staff included.

For the walk from the grounds to the Slytherin common room, his arm doesn't leave her waist, _and no one expects it to,_ the new power couple of Hogwarts treading its corridors. Kate is excitedly discussing the details of the match, and one of the 3rd years asks her for a detailed breakdown of the capture, to which she readily obliges. Once they enter the common room, however, the atmosphere changes.

Fromjust jubilatory, the celebrations take a more raucous turn. The rest of the team is scattered around the room - Black and Rookwood appear to be starting a drinking contest.

"Riddle!" Malfoy taps a glass with a his finger, the liquid sloshing around as he waved it in his direction. "Come on - one for your brilliant lady." He takes a look at her, and she turns to Malfoy, eyes twinkling mischievously.

"I don't like my men like you, Malfoy."

"Come again?"

"Drunk, disorderly and utterly out of control." The blonde's face flushes, but he laughs and turns to Druella, who strokes his arm comfortingly as the latter takes a shot of whisky. Orion passes a glass to Alden, who downs the drink in one gulp.

"Someone's thirsty," Rookwood comments, and Kate's attention turns towards her friend as she watches him gulp down four glasses in succession, her brows furrowed in concern.

Then, in what seems utterly uncharacteristic, he walks over to Walburga Black, pulls her in the center of the room and kisses her, everyone else breaking into hoots and cheers. He feels Kate stiffen, and Tom takes advantage of the situation and pulls her aside.

"Wish to leave?"

"Understatement of the day," she chuckles lightly, walking out of the doors and towards the Hall. Once they reach the main entrance, Kate turns towards the courtyard, Tom jogging lightly to catch up with her quick strides. He notices the obvious disdain on her face and takes a chance to look into her head. _Upset at her friend's behaviour, worried for him, worried for her father, and NEWTS. There is a lot of worry in this head._

Tom slips his hand in hers as they walk along the walls of the courtyard. _She doesn't have any romantic inclinations towards him, but is upset at his behaviour. Miffed, but will not bend to petty measures to assert security and assurance._ As he goes further in her medley of thoughts, she tightens her grip upon his hand. "What's wrong?" He pushes a lock of hair behind an ear.

"Headache - haven't eaten much since the match. This was coming, honestly," she mumbles. It's a good thing for him, and an opportunity to further cement his position as the 'good bad boy' in her books.

"Come with me," he tugs on her hand, leading her towards the castle. Once they reach the designated spot, he whips out his wand, tapping the head of the statue with a quick _Dissendium_.

"Where - why are we going through this passage?" They exchange a look, her non-verbally lighting up her wand as he pulls her along.

"So you know of its existence, but don't know where it goes?"

"Did not get the time to explore it - the hallways weren't deserted then, and I forgot about it after that because of NEWTS." Tom's lips curve in a smirk as they near the sound of footsteps and voices.

"Outside the castle?" She mouths at him, and he nods as he raises the trapdoor. She looks at the boxes, squinting at the writing on them, eyes lighting up. "Honeydukes?" Before they can move out of the corridor, he quickly taps her head and his, the cold of the Disillusionment charm trickling down his back.

They get out with a gaggle of shoppers, the two sneaking into an alley as he puts the counter charm on them. "Where to next?"

Kate slips on the hood of her Quidditch cloak, looking around for a quick moment before she pulls it off. "No point using it," she mutters, her green and silver robes a tad too obvious. "Let's go around the village first for a bit, then back to Honeydukes."

She loops her arm through his as they walk through the snowy streets of Hogsmeade, taking in the beauty of the hamlet - its cobbled street and the sun striking off its roofs, the snow crunching under their feet.

"Clever way of trying to make me forget things." Kate's expression is playful, and even though they both know that exercise doesn't work on her as effectively as on others, she still smiles at him. "Is someone envious?"

"Would it bother you if I am?"

They enter Honeydukes, the bell tinkling with the door. "Would it bother you if I am not?" They smile in unison at the cashier, who beams back and turns a blind eye to them as they browse the shelves.

"On the contrary," he picks up a pack of Honeydukes' dark chocolate, "it pleases me greatly to see someone so sure in themselves." They walk back through the corridor and to the Astronomy Tower, pockets stuffed with sweets. Alden is merrily discussing something with Walburga, who is all coy smiles and honeyed words. The blonde makes eye contact with them, and Tom takes a look at the girl beside him, who smirks before he leans down to kiss her. Her hands tug at his collar as they stand there before she pulls him out of sight, the two laughing quietly as they walk back to the dungeons.

_What is life without a little pettiness and drama?_


	18. Chapter 18

_**And that was it.** _

Kate doesn't see much of Tom afterwards - with NEWTS only weeks away, she is too focused on exams to indulge herself in social responsibilities. Apart from the occasional stolen kiss or a passing smile, there is no extra-curricular conversation.

And once the exams are over, there are no conversations whatsoever.

She alights on the Hogwarts Express after their graduation ceremony, boarding the carriage of Head Girl and Boy for one last time. She expects Tom to enter after her, but the train takes off, and he is nowhere to be seen. The sharp whistle wakes her upon arrival, and she walks off the train and onto Kings Cross.

London doesn't look the same anymore.

The buildings are more or less intact (the Blitz was over a year ago), but the people are nothing but different. Mothers don't frown in worry anymore as their children go out to play but still pull them off the streets, yanking them by the collar as they stray towards a park or the nearest broken structure, scolding them with eyes full of terror. Men talk freely as they walk, but they cannot help but stare around in wariness, looking up at the sky ever so often.

She boards the bus, the only other occupants an old lady and a family of four. The lady keeps a light hand on her groceries, patting the bag to stop the carrots from spilling. The woman keeps a tight grip on her baby, her other two children running along the length of the bus. Kate gets off at Argyll Street, walking the few metres left.

The front gate is bolted shut but she easily puts her hand through the grills and opens the hatch, the metal gate swinging open. _Father never leaves it unlocked - maybe in a hurry he might've, but he never has_.

The house bears a deserted look, a generous layer of dust on the furniture and appliances. _I heard that everyone was back home_. She refuses to consider the alternative - _that's just the paranoia talking_.

The rest of the day goes in cleaning the house, dusting mantelpieces and yanking bedsheets to get the dust mites out. By evening, the house is clean - and so is the fridge.

She meets Colonel Jameson at the greengrocer's, and after a curt handshake, the middle aged man offers to walk her home. "How are you?"

"Just got back home from school, Colonel."

"Ahh - in the country, aye?"

"Ireland - my mother preferred education back home."

"Like her." His brow furrows and he hesitates before he speaks next, opening the door. "Kate, my child, there is news for you. A soldier left this letter with me." She looks at the writing upon the envelope, the unmistakable slanted cursive of her father. "I'll take your leave, then." The man shows himself out, and she closes the door behind him, reading the envelope's contents.

_Delayed - all right then._

She doesn't think too much of it until two days later on a sunny morning, a British soldier shows up on her doorstep, suitcase in hand. "Ma'am." She nods in response, and he puts on his hat again as he motions towards the door. "May I take a seat?" She waves a hand, the boy (he cannot be possibly older than 21, she wagers) opening his briefcase. "It's disgraceful if the lady remains standing while I sit." Kate sits down, leaning towards the documents and the small velvet box.

"What are these?" He gulps, rubbing his neck a little before he begins.

"Ma'am, it is with utter grief that I bring you the news of your father's demise, Major Aidan John Summers." The effect is like snow - it fills her up, slow and steady, and soon she cannot feel her insides, the cold packed tight in her veins, burning its path through her body.

She picks up the piece of paper with shaking hands, vision blurry - but not from tears. The letter states that her father perished at Sainte Honorine des Pertes in France, the troops having fought back the Axis with success. He will be awarded the Victoria Cross for his valiant efforts, the award encased in the purple velvet box that lies on her table.

 _But Victoria Crosses aren't bringing him back_.

"Okay," she lets out a thick croak, rushing the man out of the house as she slams the door behind him. _Gone_.

She lies down on the sofa slowly, arms curling around her pajama-clad legs as the tears start coming and her throat is closing and her heart feels like it will break out of her chest. It makes her feel like she is choking on air and she _wants this to stop._

The feeling continues until the light is gone from the sky and comes back, and with the rise of the sun of another day, the searing pain has been replaced by dried out eyes and hollowness in her heart. Her head hurts and so does her stomach, but none of that is comparable to the ache that has gripped her chest and refuses to let go.

* * *

_**First orphaned, now homeless**_.

Tom's state of affairs is suffering a gradual degradation, what with the shutdown of Wool's orphanage. Granted, he was glad to see the place the gone, but the fact that he has no money to his name and no Hogwarts to turn back to is a troubling situation indeed.

"Come stay with us at Wiltshire," Abraxas offers over a cup of coffee at the Cauldron, his old mates absent at the table. "Mother will be more than glad to see you."

"This is too grand an offer, Abraxas. To come and stay with your family?" The blonde guffaws, patting Tom on the back with a heavy hand - he grimaces a little at the gesture, fighting down an urge to smack the Malfoy heir.

"My family would like to keep you for as long as your pride permits. Besides, the Malfoys should be given an opportunity to prove their value to their Lord." The corners of his lips turn up at the latter end of the sentence and he leans towards Malfoy, lean fingers running over the latter's under the table in the secluded, quiet booth that is far from prying eyes and tattling tongues.

"I need you to prove _your_ worth to me, Abraxas." He knows of the boy's tendency to swing both ways and while Tom necessarily doesn't, the experiment is delectable enough to undertake. He can see the hesitation in the boy's head and he lifts a finger, delicately placing it on Malfoy's lower lip. "Kate was a… distraction. A beautiful one, mind you, but a distraction nevertheless."

"Good Lord, Tom."

"Clever, my dear - and not here. Perhaps in the confines of Malfoy Manor, in the safety of your room."

"Your wish is my command."

He rises from his seat, lifting the coat off the table and draping it across an arm. "That's my good boy. Now, shall we?"

The Malfoys are glad to see him, and Wiltshire Manor has the regality and charm that befits his future status of Lord Voldemort - _it will make a fine bastion_. The house that technically belongs to him is large and stately, but the taint of his father's filthy blood is something he can't scourge off the floors and walls - _a waste of a perfectly good property_.

"My dear boy," Mrs Malfoy caresses the top of his head and ushers him straight to the dining table, where dinner commences with a serving of mushroom soup and discussion of plans after school.

"What fine Ministers they will make," Mr Malfoy beams at the two boys at the table, laughs being traded freely between the three males while Mrs Malfoy serves them another helping of steak. "I feel it is a crying shame Grindelwald got defeated by Dumbledore. Alas, fools such as he cannot understand the path to the greater good." Tom raises his glass to this, and the Malfoys smile a lot larger, sharing details of a jaunt in Germany, which he of course listens to with utter concern and enthusiasm, nodding and humming at all the right places.

The night is spent in Abraxas' room, trading family secrets for bed-breaking action and sweet embraces in the afterglow.

The same routine continues for a week, but Tom cannot put his plan into action as long as he stays under the Malfoy roof, so he tells Abraxas one cloudy morning that he has to go on the next step to achieve greatness.

"Are you certain this isn't possible here?" Tom runs his fingers along the length of Malfoy's chest as he speaks, voice low and soothing.

"I'm afraid not."

"I'll come with you."

"In due time - I will call for you when everything is ready." Abraxas sighs, blonde hair falling into his eyes.

"Alright then - in due time, my Lord."

That afternoon, Tom packs up, trunks ready for departure. "If only the Gaunts and Riddles had not squandered away their wealth - what an heir the two bloodlines have," Mrs Malfoy frets with his collar, looking at him with a maternal expression.

"Salazar's descendants have always had impetuousness in their blood," he sagely comments, Madam Malfoy nodding sanctimoniously.

"But you are wiser, aren't you, dear?"

"Certainly, Mrs. Malfoy - I shall restore our names to their former glory."

"That you will. Do return if you feel the need." But he won't, _not as of now_ and Tom, trunk and all, Apparates to a house in Kettering, his only guide a vivid memory that he accessed after the Quidditch Cup final.

It's raining, and because of the abundance of Muggles and an absence of an umbrella, he does not apply the _Impervius_ , choosing to walk in the downpour. The front gate is bolted shut and the curtains open, and Tom can see a familiar silhouette by one of the windows looking listlessly at the horizon.

He waits until he is sure the coast is clear, then undoes the bolt and walks to the door, knocking thrice to ensure the occupant hears him.

"Tom?"

Her voice is hoarse and dry, and he can tell by her gaunt face and red, puffy eyes that she has neither eaten nor slept in the past few days. He would have mustered an answer had Kate not collapsed on the doorway, her form shaking before she crumples to the ground.

* * *

_**She's hallucinating.** _

Because there is no way that in the thick of a thunderstorm would Tom Marvolo Riddle be at her doorstep, drenched to the bone and looking at her like a man coming home.

She manages to get his name out of her mouth before her knees give way, vision swimming before it all goes black.


	19. Chapter 19

_**Bridal carries are hard, but he knows that already**_.

This is the second time Tom is carrying an unconscious Kate Summers in his arms, and he lays the girl down on the sofa before drying himself. Her skin is feverish, so Tom waits for two hours or so before shaking her shoulders, a hand supporting her as he gets her to sit.

"Here?"

"What have you done to yourself?" He looks around, but there are no signs indicating that he is back. "Kate, where is your father?"

"Why are you here?" They are locked in a silent battle of wills, but fighting a weak and near-ill girl is a useless victory, so he gives in.

"I need to stay here for a few days, and I need to speak to your father." She laughs bitterly, eyes watering up, and he now has a very concrete idea of what has happened.

"Taking my father's permission is a matter of the past now, Riddle." Her voice hitches at the end and she breaks down, body shaking as she cries. He wraps his arms around her shoulders as he kneels by the sofa, stroking her tangled hair as he presses his face against it. Tom doesn't remember the loss of a family member - the ones that died were hardly fit to call 'family' in civil company, and he has not encountered anyone who is fit to be bestowed this title.

He has been kneeling on the carpet for over 40 minutes and frankly, his knees hurt, so he now lifts her face, rubbing his hand across her cheeks. "I understand." Tears mix with rainwater when he kisses her, and Kate clings to him like she is drowning, pulling him onto the sofa.

"It's so unfair," she rambles into his shirt, the two a jumble of arms and legs. "But I shouldn't be complaining, most of all to you."

"Believe me, losing a parent after knowing them is far worse a fate than never knowing them at all." With time, the tears slow down and she falls asleep with hiccuping breaths and arms wrapped around his torso. As the day's events catch up with him, Tom too drifts off to the sound of thunder and rain, flicking the curtains shut before he does so.

* * *

_**The sofa's never been more comfortable.** _

When Kate wakes up, her head rests on something much more cottony and soft than the prickly fabric of the sofa, and her arms are wrapped around something much thicker and muscular than a diwan cushion. A quick tilt of the head tells her that that no, last night wasn't a dream and that yes, Tom is indeed there.

She tries to leave, but she doesn't wish to risking waking him up. Nevertheless, the movement so far wakes him, and Tom's dark eyes look upon her in concern, arms shifting to hold her own. "Better?"

She nods jerkily, releasing herself from the jumble of limbs that they are and heads upstairs to the washroom, splashing water over her tear-stained face. Once she looks closer to normalcy and sanity, she descends the creaky staircase and heads towards the living room. "The guest room is yours to stay in. First door from the right." He nods, flicking his wand towards the trunks, which float upwards to the now-open door. "Breakfast?"

* * *

"I'll look after that," he calls back, quickly changing into a fresh pair of clothes, leaving his shirt untucked.

He's in the washroom when the sound of sizzling reaches his ears, and he goes down the stairs with his toothbrush jammed in his mouth, arriving to her juggling salt, pepper and pans. Kate laughs a little at the sight and points upstairs, shaking her head. "I'll manage," she mouths at him, and he heads back, completing the essential daily ritual.

He has never been around grieving humans before, so observing one and understanding their behaviour is an interesting opportunity that presents himself. Besides, if he intends to stay here a lot longer than a few days, he will need to cooperate with the head of the household.

"The elves would be quite envious," he whispers in her ear, nuzzling his head into the crook of her neck as he watches her finish.

"My father loves this." Kate stops short, and he turns her around. "I suppose it will take some time getting used to." He turns the stove knob, pulling her into an embrace as the tears begin again. Unlike expectations, the emotions aren't as strong as before, and it only takes her two minutes or so to compose herself, returning to plating the food.

They eat in silence and halfway through the activity, he takes her unoccupied hand, rubbing his thumb across her knuckles. She shoots him a weak smile before returning to eating, faster than before.

"I'll wash the dishes - acquaint yourself with the house." He takes the mute invitation to leave and heads upstairs, entering the door next to his room.

The room is cluttered and quite messy, but there is some semblance of order that depends more on the use of the objects than plain cleanliness. Books, papers and magazines take up most of the space, followed by various odds and ends. He picks up a copy of _Transfiguration Today_ off the floor, the edition delving deeper into the concept of Animagi and development of the process till modern day.

There are Muggle artifacts too - notebooks and pens and a typewriter that sits dusty. The keys click well, and the machine looks in shape but old, so he wagers that she uses it well and often. The Muggle titles include mostly Shakespeare, but there are copies of _Ulysses_ and _Gatsby_ too.

"Like what you see?"

"It is a trove of beautiful memories," he replies with a genuine smile. There is a pang of jealousy and pain at the wholeness of the place - _another thing I could never have_ , but he cannot bring himself to be openly spiteful, given that heartbroken face and the fact that he still needs a place to stay.

"Memories are all you'll be left with," she mutters before leaving with a handful of books, and he shuts the door as he follows.

Days pass like this, and evening descends upon the house as he arranges (now) his room. Kate busies herself with mindless tasks for sheer distraction, and dinner passes in the same quiet as breakfast and lunch. They bid goodnight, Kate burrowing herself under the covers in her parents' bedroom.

"Tom?" He turns to the direction of her voice, watching her head pop up from under the covers, eyes pleading. A silent understanding passes between them, and he closes the door behind him as he slips under the covers, running his fingers through her hair.

"I'll be here for as long as you need me."

"Don't leave - at least not tonight." The desperation in her voice makes him smile a little inside - _good to know I'll be here as long as I want_ \- and he gently kisses her forehead, a hand placed reassuringly on the small of her back.

"Whatever you ask for."

 _And that is a promise I intend to keep for both our sakes_.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while, but I'm back!
> 
> Edit: There were some editing errors in the previous version of this chapter (due to my formatting being removed, goddamnit AO3), but they've been fixed. Read on, folks :D

**_Something's blocking the sun._ **

Kate is usually hit by a full blast of sunlight when she wakes up in the morning, so finding that it is instead being blocked by something is a little disorienting. "What is the time? And what have you been doing, propped up on your elbow?"

"It is a little over 6:30 in the morning," Tom replies, smiling crookedly as a hand runs through her hair, _which now looks like something he takes great pleasure in_. "And I have been watching you sleep."

"What, pray tell me, is so interesting about a curled up motionless human that you spent time in looking at it so intently?"

"The fact that said human is free of worry and pain in their sleep, and it gives the watcher great comfort that this person, on whom they place great importance, gets to be free of their problems and pains for that short period. It also doesn't help that you look more beautiful while you sleep, impossible as it seems."

"I told you about my policy for compliments."

"Don't worry - I will not let you get accustomed to them. And as much as I want to stay in, I need to fetch groceries and prepare breakfast."

"It's not even seven yet," she grins at him, pushing back the painful memories that begin to creep back to centerstage. "We have nothing to do as of now - surely you can stay in." At that, Tom bites his lip in contemplation, glancing at the alarm clock by the bedside.

"Well, it is just six forty eight," a grin forming on his face, "and Frank's doesn't open till seven. So I suppose we can have some fun," before she knows, she's laughing giddily, sides tingling with all the tickling.

"Enough, enough," she swats at his hands but he only changes the site, fingers wiggling under her chin, peals of laughter echoing across the room. "I'll get back at you."

"If you get away, that is."

"Oh shut up, Riddle," she wheezes in between laughs.

"Make me."

"Should I be inferring something from this sentence?"

"Every sentence is meant to be derived an inference from."

"Okay then - _silencio_." The wiggly digits retreat and Tom sits up, hands folded in his lap with a penitent expression on his face. She gets up and walks over to the door, picking up her wand from the nightstand on the way.

When she returns from the washroom, the bedroom is empty - so Kate gets to cleaning up the room and making the bed, and then heading outside to tend to the overgrown garden. It's small and mostly weedy, but in between the unwanted plants are lilies and peonies she dare not try and uproot, so she starts with clearing the backyard first.

It takes one sweaty, muddy hour _and I have a wheelbarrow full of crabgrass_ , so taking a shower is the best course of action now. She hears clanking in the kitchen, _so he's at it now, god knows what and how he cooks_ , but it doesn't stop on her way to the washroom.

As inviting is the smell of juniper inside the shower, the smell of baking mushrooms and cheese is even more enticing, and she follows it to the source, taking a deep whiff before giving a smile filled with surprise. "Who taught you?"

"The elves," he quips, readjusting the baking gloves on his hands.

"Never thought a young man like you would look handsome in a flowery apron."

"Never thought a young lady like you would look comely in army pajamas." Tom glances at the egg timer, then takes out the skillet, quickly heating oil upon it. "Ten more minutes till breakfast."

"Since we both have nearly nothing to do so far," she begins, Tom hmming in agreement, "I had a proposition - dueling matches and lessons. I will be enrolling for Auror training in September, so it seemed fitting that I was well-prepared beforehand." He doesn't answer, pulling out plates, forks and knives.

"And where and who will be conducting these?"

"Here - in the basement. Just the two of us."

"Auror?"

"Fits my temperament and skillset."

"I earned a job at Borgin and Burkes." She takes a while to formulate a response to that, the two seated across the other. Kate understands his reasons and knows that someone with pride like Tom's would never ask for help in such matters, and she knows exactly why he's telling her that. _Just because he works for those men doesn't put either of our future careers in jeopardy._

"Doesn't matter," she looks straight at him, "you stay here as long as you want. I'll provide you a letter of character before you join wherever, and I'm certain the Malfoys and Blacks will be more than willing to help you with that."

"So it doesn't perturb you in the slightest that I'm taking up work at a shop that specialises in the sale and procurement of charmed and/or cursed objects, more towards the Dark Arts?"

"Perturb, yes - antagonise, no. It does not change my perception of you." He gives her a small, genuine smile, rising from his seat.

"I would very much like to do something."

"And what is that?"

Tom lifts her off the chair and her feet, putting her down on the kitchen counter. "You do know you are shameless by current societal standards, don't you?"

"You love that about me." Fingers creep up her sides as he leans closer, and her pulse picks up at the heat meeting her shower-cooled skin. Somewhere in the distance, lightning flashes, and Kate counts the seconds until the sound of rumbling thunder to slow her racing heart. _Sixteen kilometres to the storm_.

She presses her lips to his as she slides off the counter, trying to marshal her thoughts into an orderly formation. "Work first."

* * *

 

**_Basement_ would be an inadequate term.**

The room is more akin to an air raid shelter, a wall lined with all supplies essential for survival. The other end, however, is a polar opposite - best resembling a mini wizarding dueling arena, it is equipped with dummies bearing scorch marks and what looks like Muggle training equipment.

"My father left her side of the place untouched while transforming the other half into a carpentry station and then a shelter," Kate explains. "We, as you can clearly see, will be using the wizard half of the place." She looks around the room before pointing to a spot, the two taking their places. "Okay - begin."

He fires an easy spell first - _Diffindo_ \- which she deflects with ease, smirking haughtily at him. _It was foolish to assume this woman would ever start from the ground up_. The next is a little more dangerous - _Relashio_ \- but she ducks and fires back with a protective charm, throwing him off his feet.

He lifts himself off the floor, firing hex after hex; she twists and dodges and parries back with hexes of her own - he misses a particularly nasty one by a hair's breadth. Tom retaliates with a Stunning Spell, and even though she successfully blocks it, the impact throws her into the stone wall, and Kate gets a cut on her cheek that is now steadily bleeding.

Tom steps forward but she rises before he's within arm's reach, a challenging smile on her face. "Again." He waits to ensure that she isn't joking - that wait is costly, because he's now bound by thin, tight ropes, cutting into his arms. "We're opponents here."

"It is still my duty to ensure you're not terribly injured."

"That is my duty, Riddle. Yours is to try to beat the living hell out of me." A look at her wristwatch and she turns back to him, cutting the ropes free. "We have been here for over four hours and I am sure we both can dearly use a bath and lunch."

"And you can use some antiseptic and a bandage." They emerge on the landing, the cloudy sky now replaced by thunder and rain.

"All in due time."

He can barely hear the sound of the shower over the thunder, letting the water drip through his sweat-slick hair and itchy back. Dueling practices now seem like a good idea, especially if he plans to obtain certain objects off of certain individuals. _Last I heard, Gellert Grindelwald holds the key to unlimited wizarding power in his palm - a Hallow. And not just a Hallow - the Hallow itself. A few months at Borgin and Burkes ought to set me right for the journey_.

"Lunch is there if you want it."

"Three minutes." _Like the idiot that I sometimes am_ , Tom has left his shirt on the bed, and he steps out to find said clothing being waved in front of his face.

"You told me you never indulged in sports." He looks back and forth, then back at himself in order to answer her question. _Not exactly a sport_.

"No." He smiles at her, amused. _Three guesses, Summers_.

"Patrol duty cannot give a person such a physique."

"It cannot." His smile grows.

"I've never seen you run around the grounds of the castle."

"I did, but you do need to keep yourself in shape for peak performance each week." When she doesn't get the drift, he steps closer, slowly backing her into the wall. "It isn't exactly a sport - if it was, it would probably be the oldest in human history."

When she eventually does catch on, Kate blinks slowly, words dying in her mouth as she shakes her head, cheeks flooded with red. He runs his thumb along her parted lips. "I'm-I'm not taken aback by the what, more by the frequency," she manages to let out. Tom hums in agreement, prying his shirt out of her hands with his free one, the other still playing with her hair. "You are joking."

"To a fair extent," he hooks a finger under the neck of her T-Shirt, lightly pulling it - Kate's eyes widen, "and not." _Time to put my theory to the test_.

Kissing her feels just as intoxicating as that Christmas Eve and he has to fight with his instincts to observe her reactions. Tom tosses the shirt away, the hand now gripping her wrist, holding it against the wall. _Her pulse is so much more elevated than usual_.

Her face is flushed when she looks back at him, confused and hesitant before she speaks. "You know, most women dream of being in such situations with men like you."

There is always one. "But?"

"As much as I am attached to you, I still don't. This," she points at them, "the kissing and all is fine, but I don't know if I can ever see myself going beyond that." _So this is the grand answer_. Her answer relieves him greatly - Tom was worried she would become sexually attached as well as emotionally, but this girl is off any spectrum, queer or otherwise. _Which makes two of us_ , because as much as Tom brings people into his bed, it is nothing but a physical impulse, a thing he wants to jettison out of him as soon as possible. He knows he can live without it, and will never form an emotional bond with any of his partners.

But whatever he has with her - this strange intellectual and literally magical bond (he suspects) that they have - he can tell that it goes deeper than skin and flesh, for better or worse. So he decides to ditch the laboratory conditions and simply enjoy the experience, letting the lightning flow through his veins once more as their mouths collide.

_The explanation is for another time._


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my dudes. I am back with another chapter. 
> 
> Things get a little... physical.

**_They read in bed._ **

Or rather, Kate reads aloud from  _ Dorian Gray _ while Tom listens, head in her lap. He interjects occasionally, to comment upon the characters or a theme, and sometimes she misses his query - she’s too engrossed dissecting Dorian herself to offer a confident, conclusive opinion.

“Would you like to live forever?” She asks him, pausing somewhere around the fifth chapter.

“In this age and time,” he looks up at her, “it seems like a very welcome offer.” On a questioning look, she shuts the book, thinking over what her own answer would be.

“I want a fulfilling life - rather it be glorious and short than dull and long.”

“What about memorable and eternal?” She smiles ruefully - there are some demands that seem a long reach but reasonable, and there are some that are better off left alone - _ not because they are unachievable _ , but because the means might burn you up in the process.

“Faust tells me otherwise.” 

His hand reaches for hers, fingers circling her knuckles. “Dorian and Sybil might not.” He picks up the book and they switch places, and Kate curls up in the center of the bed with her head on his stomach while he reads, his slow, rich voice filling her up like chocolate. “Hungry?” 

“Keep reading.”

A while later, Tom gets up and moves out of the room, returning with a tray loaded with two filled plates, and they eat in silence before he puts the tray away and resumes his reading, her arms around him.    


When she wakes up in the morning, Tom has been replaced by a note. 

_ At work - shall see you in the evening. Don’t start training without me _ .

She smiles at the latter part of the note and puts the piece of paper away, getting started on the mandatory reading for Auror candidates, then goes for a long run around the neighbourhood. It takes up most of her morning and by the time Kate returns home, the sun is out there, blazing in full afternoon glory. 

And so becomes her routine. 

She wakes up every morning to a fresh, crisp piece of paper, Tom’s sharp, looping handwriting writing the same sentence every day, along with a new question to keep her brain whirring. It’s usually a small detail from a segment she’s read a day or so back but probably forgotten by the time she reads the note. 

Then, a long run to keep the fitness level sufficient to clear the physicals, which ends sometime around eleven. The rest of the afternoon goes in preparation of lunch and by one, she’s at the dinner table, scribbling notes on a notebook with a pen while a plate of food lies half eaten. 

As the sun sets upon the house, she finds Tom leaning on the closest doorway, eyebrows cocked in expectation of an answer. 

Today, she doesn’t have one.

“Well, we had set down certain terms in case of defeat, hadn’t we?” His smirk stretches all the way up to his eyes, the latter alight with wicked mischief.

“I honestly have no idea about curse breaking on jewelry - what part of the textbook did you extricate this one from?”

“I might have violated my end of the deal on that one - you see, this is something I picked up at work, and thought would be useful for you.” Her face flushes in annoyance - the shame of her defeat gives way to dull irritation of him cheating.

“And how was I supposed to know this?”

“You knowing it would have been impressive.”

“So you violated our terms for what, may I know? Not that I don’t appreciate you making the effort and of course, gaining new knowledge in the course of that.”

“To better prepare you. And to be able to give you this.” Tom pulls out a small box from his trousers, placing it in her palm. Kate flips the lid open, a dull, silvery watch looking up at her. “Happy 18th, Miss Summers. Given that you should’ve had one a year ago, but I understand the circumstances. Besides, platinum looked better than gold anyways.” 

“This,” she struggles for words, eyes fixated on the object, “is wholly, utterly -”

“Necessary, and I shall not accept the contrary as an answer.” She pulls it out of its case, the thin strap holding a small, yet intricate dial. He slips it on her left wrist, his hands busy fastening the buckle while his head rests on her shoulder. “And the answer is  _ maledicta expulso _ . Now, to training, shall we?”

“I won’t go easy on you,” she grumbles, fighting the smile that threatens to cover her face as he walks off. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” the cheery reply floats up from the basement.

This time, it’s a lot more bloody - she has a small cut on her lip and a nasty bruise on her temple from being thrown face-first into a wall and he has a stinging gash on his arm from a hex. They head upstairs after that, summoning the first aid kit as she shuts the door behind her. It’s dark already and they head upstairs, Kate mentally ordering her tasks for tomorrow.

His arm is quickly patched up, and Tom is dabbing at her forehead when he suddenly stops, his eyes boring into her face.

“What?” she quirks an eyebrow.

“You,” his voice is tight, but not really from sadness. It’s a lot more different, something she has never really expected or heard before.

“Me what? I did what now?”

“Good Merlin,” he mutters before taking his face in his hands, pulling her into a kiss. And this time, it isn’t soft or caring - it’s hungry, enunciated further as he pulls her into his lap. 

It makes her insides burn - not in the agonising hurt like a wound, but what that feels like sparks and electricity dancing through her veins. She wraps her arms around his neck as he runs his thumb down to her clavicle, biting down on her lip. The action elicits a whimper from her as her legs wrap around his torso, her heart thundering against her ribcage, her blood roaring in her ears.

_ If this alone electrifies me, anything beyond this would burn me up _ .

“What was the point in patching my lip up?” She utters in the brief break in contact, forehead resting on his as her back presses against the headboard of the bed.

“So I could mark you as mine,” he rumbles, voice hoarse and heavy and in no way answering her question. He kisses her neck slowly, lips dragging up to her ear. “Mine alone to worship.”

“What sort of worshipping is this?” 

His eyes are dilated, his features a cross between desire and reverence, and she gets her answer in the kisses he places along her throat, her heart singing while she wills every nerve in her body not to combust.


	22. Chapter 22

_**Kate was bored.** _

Having finished most of the day's tasks, she really doesn't feel like studying any further, and the thought of visiting Borgin and Burkes has been niggling her from the morning. _Maybe I should make a visit then_ , she tells herself, wrapping up in a heavy cloak to protect her from the rain before she prepared to apparate to Knockturn Alley.

A swish later, she has materialised in an alleyway that leads to the shop. The rain has died down to a steady drizzle, but that doesn't matter to most patrons here anyways, the Impervius charm creating a rain-free bubble around each shopper she sees. Kate thinks about doing the same, but upon seeing the short distance she has to cover, decides against it anyways.

The bell on the door jingles as she walks in, looking around her with the air of a curious shopper before chancing a glance at the register. To her disappoint, it isn't Tom, but a greasy-haired man with dark eyes that skeptically eyed her as she peered closely at the display cases.

"Bartimaeus Borgin. May I help you?" The tone was hardly courteous or facilatory - it seemed like what Borgin truly wanted was her out of his shop. So she did the next thing that came to mind and pointed at a locket encased in a glass box on display in the counter.

"That looks rather charming, but more than that, it looks like it has some history," she started in an effort to erase that skeptical look off his face. "And as a student of magical history, I would be more interested to learn what that is."

He smirked as he pulled the glass box out, the dull gold and emerald glinting despite the lack of sunlight in the shop. "Slytherin's locket - the original."

"How do you know?" She pulled out a notebook and began writing down, looking much more intrigued than she actually was.

"A lady came to me two decades back with this, all dirty and filthy, ready to deliver a child any moment," he spoke in a condescending tone, "pushes this in my hands, says only ten Galleons would be enough." He scoffs, placing the locket back in its original place. "Poor thing - she was not aware even in the slightest of its true worth."

"How did you verify it was an original?"

"A few spells here and there," he remarked, leaning on the counter as he cleaned something else, "and the markings were there all right."

"How much?"

"Much more than you can imagine, little girl," he smiled toothily, Kate shuddering inwardly at the way it unsettled her. Resisting the urge to answer back, she racked her brain for any excuses she could use to come back.

"I'm planning to write about the artifacts of the Founders for my research in training - can I come back to take a look at the locket? You can cast all the charms you want on that thing," she added as a reassurance, "I won't be touching it at all."

"Come back tomorrow - Tom knows quite a bit about these things. Then again, he knows quite a bit about everything. The boy is wasting his time here, but you never know - he has one of those minds." _That was an interesting remark_.

"Minds like what?"

"Ones that can find diamonds in dirt - that boy must be getting something worthwhile, else he has no reason to work here, what with everyone lining to write his recommendations."

"All right." She shoves the notebook and quill back in her bag and heads back out into the rainy streets, enjoying the way the rain gently hits her face as she walks. Halfway through to the spot she had materialised, she bumps into Tom, his eyebrows rising in surprise as he pulls her into a secluded corner while pulling off the Impervius charm off himself.

"What brings you here?"

"I was bored and did not want to study further."

He cocks an eyebrow, backing her into a wall. "So you decide to trek down to the seediest area of Wizarding London, because Flourish and Blotts simply wouldn't have done the job."

She puts her chin up, smiling playfully as she looks up at him. "This thought had been bugging me since morning, and I really wanted to get it out of my head, so I came down here."

"And what was this thought?"

"I just really, really wanted to visit Borgin and Burkes and as much as you would like to believe otherwise, it has nothing to do with you."

"Mmhmm," is all he dignifies for a reply before capturing her lips with his. The rain beats gently on her face, trickling down her nose as the hood slips off her head. "I've wanted to kiss you in the rain for quite a while." She has to admit, that makes her feel a little giddy inside.

"Someone's a romantic at heart," she murmurs against his lips. "And as much as I like your random shows of affection, you have to get back to work and me to the books."

He looks at his pockets, nodding. "Borgin would not appreciate the delay. But I shall see you in the evening," Tom hugs her, sneaking in a kiss on the neck before departing with a smirk.

A fortnight passes since her trip to Knockturn Alley, and since that little adventure, she has had no new interesting things happen, so she decides to occupy her time by writing a new batch of mail for her friends. Of all her colleagues from Hogwarts, Gemma McKinnon, Arabella Vance and Alden Greengrass were the ones who had diligently kept up a correspondence with her, filling her in with any and all new developments in their lives.

She goes over one of Alden's latest message, delivered this morning by a tawny owl.

_Hello!_

_If it were not an inconvenience to you, I was planning on dropping by your home this week before my family and I depart for one last vacation together before Auror training. I would love to see my best friend until I see her again in September._

_Yours faithfully,  
Alden_

Since today is as good as any other, she writes him a speedy reply and ties it to the owl's waiting leg, sending the bird off with a friendly pat. She's an hour into cleaning the kitchen when a sharp screech signals the arrival of a reply.

 _I shall be there in two hours_.

And true to his word, a whirl of robes materialises in her living room two hours later. She quickly strides over to give him a hug, pleased with the bright smile on his face. "I hope you have put the events of the past year behind you," he begins, the previous expression on his face replaced by a penitent one.

"That was juvenile nonsense, and what is a minor skirmish in front of a seven year friendship?" They settle down with scones and tea, and Alden recounts his latest exploits with his siblings and their attempts at breeding Augureys.

"Of all the birds in the world," she raises an eyebrow.

"They're terribly rare, and collectors pay a fortune!" He offers for a defense, raising his hands up to emphasise his point.

They talk about everything and nothing, and he puts a consoling hand on her shoulder as their discussion veers towards parents. "I know I can offer nothing but company and sympathy, but if that is what you need, I'll be more than glad to assist you with it."

Her heart constricts a little thinking of her father, and she can feel the tears pricking the back of her eyes. It's barely been two months since she received the news, and the pain is sharp and hot still. A part of her tells her that this is irrational, _because tears don't raise the dead_ , but logic doesn't fill the hole she feels in her heart.

She blinks them away, wiping the tears that escaped on the back of her palm. "I'll survive."

"You don't have to bear this alone, you know." His voice is gentler than she's ever heard it, and she shoots him a weak smile on hearing it. Tom has been there for her through the worst, but Alden understands the depth of her relationship with her father, and that is a facet she doesn't see the former fully comprehending. "Write to me whenever you're feeling upset, or down, or lonely, okay?" He breaks her train of thought, and she nods in response.

"Thank you for coming over," she tells him as he prepares to leave, eyes not quite fully meeting his. Expressing her emotional dependency makes her feel small, and Kate doesn't like it at all.

"Anytime you need me." He raises a hand to hold her face, and while she knows her friend is quite expressive, this gesture isn't coming strictly from a place of friendship.

"Alden, I don't wish to lead you on by providing you false hopes," she clarifies, looking up into his eyes to make sure she makes her point. "You're my best friend, and my affections towards you are strictly platonic." She tries to keep her tone gentle but firm, hoping that her friend would clearly get the message and hopefully leave this subject alone without her being abrasive about it. "I am still seeing Tom, and I hope that all of this knowledge should be enough for you to not pursue this with me further."

His face falls - she can see the hurt in his eyes and in the slight tremble of his mouth, but he offers her an understanding smile nevertheless. "I held out hope. And in all honesty, I still might later on - but we shall never discuss this again, not unless you choose to bring it up. Thank you for your honesty, Katie."

"And thank you so much for yours, my friend. I hope you will not think lesser of me after this." At that, he raises an eyebrow, lips pulled into a suppressed laugh.

"Please, I'm not that narrow-minded, but I'm glad you felt comfortable voicing all of this to me."

"That's what best friends are for." They share a firm handshake, and then he departs the way he came.

The setting sun has cast a rosy glow over the house, and she hears another gust of air as Tom materialises in the living room.

"Something the matter?" He glances over at the center table and looks back at her, and she beckons him to sit down, waving her wand at the kettle to start preparing another batch of tea.

"Alden came over, and we talked about a lot of things," she begins once they both have steaming mugs of tea in their hands. "It made me realise that in our short association, I don't know as much about you as I would wish to."

"And what do you want to know, Kate?"

"Whatever you feel comfortable sharing at this point - we speak about a wide variety of topics, but never have we talked about ourselves with each other. And I would like to understand you better as a person." He seems to consider her words, the tension palpable between them. After a long, silent moment, Tom takes a gulp of his tea, and begins.

"I suppose the first things you should know about are my parents."


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do you guys like 500+ words of two people making out? Because this chapter is literally just that, plus some plot. Enjoy, my lovely gremlins.

**_This is both an opportunity and a trap._ **

Tom is quite aware of the pitfalls of answering her queries, and starting with his parents is certainly not the safest points in his history to start with. But starting off anywhere else will create more suspicion than alleviate it.

So he will do what he does best - present the truth in a light that benefits both parties.

“My mother was a pureblood witch - she lived in a small village close to York. Little Hangleton, actually. The circumstances she grew up in could not have been ideal in any form or shape whatsoever - my grandfather was a powerful wizard, albeit a drunkard and a man with a terrible temper, who didn’t value his daughter half as much as he did his son.” He decides to allay any of her rising suspicions. “That day in Hogsmeade when you found me in the alley? I had finally tracked down my grandfather, but I was too late. The old man had passed away, murdered by that son he cherished so much.” 

She’s listening with rapt attention, eyes focused solely on his face. “I don’t suppose you have any sympathy for your deceased grandfather or uncle.” 

He gives her a wry smile -  _ this woman understands me well  _ \- and takes another sip of the still warm tea, continuing with his story. “None. They treated my mother like garbage. As for my father, he was no better, really.” He mentally steels himself to tell the heinous lie of elevating his Muggle father to a status he could have never achieved, and plows on. “Equal in stature to my mother’s family, the Riddles were a prestigious and respected lot. But their son was a flighty man. He went around with a few Muggle women, but he couldn’t be his true self and continue any of those dalliances, so he cut each of them off rather quickly. And then he met my mother.” 

He honestly thinks Merope Gaunt was a weakling to have given up so easy on life, but there is a small, childish, resentful part of him that doesn’t believe it. That part believes that Riddle Sr stole any of the strength that woman had, that that filthy Muggle robbed his mother of her magic.

“It was a whirlwind romance, and the two eloped and ran away to goodness knows where, if my uncle is to be believed. They were ecstatic upon knowing of her pregnancy, but once the glow of the honeymoon period of their relationship faded, there were fights. Many of them, and after one of them, my mother left for good. Unfortunately for her, she wasn’t well versed in the ways of the Muggle world, and complications with her health led her to reach an orphanage, where she had me. My father tried tracking us down, but was told by my uncle that neither the child nor his wife had survived, but he didn’t believe his lie for a second and left to look for his wife and child. He has not been heard from since.”

Her small hand comes to rest upon his, and Kate wears an expression of sympathy as she moves closer to him. “If you don’t wish to talk further, I will not push you.”  _ And this is the perfect time to play along _ .

“Except I do. You have been more than supporting of me, and I think I want you to know me.” He takes her face in his hands for effect, rubbing circles on her cheek. “All of me.” 

“The good, bad and ugly all included, I hope.” 

“Especially the bad and the ugly.” He captures her lips with his, lifting her up as she wraps her legs around his torso, and he carefully climbs the flight of stairs up to their bedroom before nudging the door open with his shoulder and quickly shutting it with his back. 

He lets her take the lead, basking in the touch of her fingers on his bare skin. Her kiss is gentle yet insistent, her restraint making her seem more hesitant than eager. So Tom decides to kiss back more roughly, taking control,  _ like I always do _ . He slowly sinks his teeth into her soft lips and is instantly rewarded with a groan, his fingers slipping under her loose jumper. 

Kate’s hands move from his neck to his torso, slowly but deftly undoing the buttons of his shirt, and in his pursuit to reach the bed, he stumbles onto it on his back. There is a brief break, and he looks up at her, removing a hand from her waist to hold her face, running his fingers across her cheek. To him, this is a pointless gesture of affection, but she responds by kissing him even more fiercely, and he flips them over.

She drags him up into a sitting position, her hands poised on the lapels of his shirt. “Is this okay?” she looks at him, voice slightly breathy. They’re illuminated only by the faint moonlight that has made its way through the clouds, and to Tom, she’s never looked more  _ inviting _ , and he answers her question by easing off his shirt, casting his vest off in one smooth motion, his upper body now bare. 

He pulls her into his lap, a hand undoing her hair as he places kisses on her exposed shoulder. “Is this okay?” He asks a moment later, trailing his lips along her ear. 

“Yes, please,” comes the near-instantaneous reply. They back into the wall, her body pressed up against the headboard of the bed. He sucks on the soft skin of her neck, eliciting a a loud gasp from Kate. "Don't stop,” she commands him as her nails dig between his shoulder blades and her legs wrap around his waist again,  _ and I have no intention of stopping right now _ . 

He grips her waist tighter, moving his lips from the side of her neck to the base of her throat. “Oh god please don’t stop,” she inhales sharply again, neck angling up to give more access. A shiver of pleasure runs down his spine as she slowly drags her nails across the expanse of his bare back, and he continues to suck the delicate skin along her throat, leaving blooming flowers of a bruise in the wake of each spot. 

“Do you want to take this further?” He looks up into her flushed face. She stares at him for a while, and he doesn’t need Legilimency to read the reluctance on her face.  _ And unlike with other people _ , he isn’t about to coerce and cajole and take what he wants - if he wants to employ her skills and keep her services for a long time, that won’t fly.

She only makes it more clear by whispering “no”, so Tom kisses her forehead first, proceeding to gently kiss her lips as he holds her face in his hands. “All right, then - what else do you want to know about me?”

“How was your time at the orphanage?” 

He tells her about the kids at the orphanage, those annoying little wretches who made his every day miserable. He tells her about the cave - not with complete accuracy - and about the slow but sure discovery of his powers. 

“Well, they sort of had it coming, didn’t they? It is only natural for a child to take their bully’s prized belongings in retaliation. You did return them, didn’t you?” She speaks into his hair, fingers tracing circles on his back.

“Those articles did find their way back to their owners, yes.”

“But did  _ you  _ return them?” He can hear the questioning edge in her voice and smiles in spite of himself -  _ this woman and her relentless, driven attitude _ .

But she doesn’t need to know who made him do it. “Mmhmm - I was the one who returned it to them.” His voice reverberates through her shoulder, thinking of what next he might have to spin next in order to keep the “misunderstood child” image consistent in her head.

“Tell me about that time you set your chair on fire.”

It’s an amusing memory, and it makes him smile again. “The chair was rickety and made horrid creaky noises whenever it was moved, and one day the sound drove me mad, and I just wished the blasted thing would go up in flames. And it did. I screeched and jumped off the offending object thinking I had accidentally lit myself on fire too, until the flames just sort of subsided on their own.”

She slides off his lap and lies down, looking out into the faintly lit sky, and Tom can hear the tell tale rumble of an approaching thunderstorm. He follows suit, lying down beside her, and she turns to face him, giving him a small kiss on his jaw, a content smile on her face.  _ The smile of someone falling in love _ .

In that one fleeting moment, he feels a jolt of something terrifying and scary, a warm, strange feeling growing in his chest as she turns back to look at the sky, watching the rain fall. It is close to what he sees on her face - not in magnitude, but in nature, and he completely quashes it by the time she falls asleep. 

_ What I’m feeling is affection, _ the analytical part of his brain relays.  _ Affection for an asset, a valuable tool _ .

What he’s feeling is a weakness.

* * *

 

**Author’s Note: Tom will never allow any form of affection to manifest in himself, not even for a moment. And love? Not during his lifetime.**


	24. Chapter 24

_**It's strangely beautiful**_.

Kate observes the patchwork of bruises on her neck once she steps out of the shower, red and bright from the previous night. She would have presumed they would look ugly, but it looks like a necklace of flowers blooming on her skin.

She's fully dressed once she steps into the bedroom, and for once, she notices that she is out of bed before the man she shares it with. Tom is still asleep, shirt and vest still discarded on the floor. For a short moment, she simply stares at his sleeping form, a slow smile building on her face. She bends down to kiss the exposed skin, stepping back almost immediately once she realises exactly what she has done.

It's nothing out of the ordinary, but it's the ease and spontaneity with which she feels those emotions that takes her aback. So far, he had been a good friend, then a support system to fend off the grief of her father's passing, and then they had progressed to a strange relationship not quite a school fling, and not quite a monogamous union.

But last night had slightly changed things for her, as much as she loathed to admit it.

He had trusted her with topics he clearly did not discuss in ordinary company or in friend circles, and she had wanted him in more ways than one.

There was this previously unexplored physical aspect, which she chalked down to her blatant lack of experience with anyone. She had asked him, almost teetered on _begging_ him, to continue touching her like that. She had dragged her nails across his back, not wanting the thrill coursing through her body to stop.

And he looked at her like she was some deific figure, an odd mix of desire and adoration. Then there was the time after that - for someone very rough and aggressive in their pursuit of passion, he was unexpectedly gentle with her. And in that one moment as they looked at each other lying down on her bed, an odd feeling of completeness and warmth had filled her.

All of that confuses and scares her.

 _If this is love, I don't want it. Not now_. She barely knows the man properly for not even a year, and to make herself that emotionally vulnerable to him would be utter foolishness. They have barely begun to exchange secrets and weaknesses, and until the scale is even and heavy, she will not allow herself to fall in love.

He gives her a sleep-laden smile as he extends a hand, and Kate takes it. Tom pulls her down upon him as his lips reach for her neck (a favourite spot of his), _but two can play at this, Tom_. So she straddles him, leaning in close enough before pulling back at the last second. At that, she receives a wicked smirk before the tickles hit, and she collapses upon him in a heap of laughter, her hands batting his away.

He finally captures her lips with his, his hands sliding down to her waist as he kisses her fully, and she lets hers find their way to his face. "Good morning," a croaky baritone greets her after that. "And I will leave for Borgin's a lot later now, because that cantankerous old prune certainly does not greet me this way." Kate grins at him before getting up, leaving to prepare for her day.

 _For now, this will do_.

He leaves for work, and she gets to her daily routine. In a month, Kate joins the Ministry of Magic to formally begin training as an Auror, and the prospect fills with excitement and a tiny bit of fear.

The rest of the day passes in the blur of routine, and the only break in her monotony comes when Tom returns, the two of them returning to training before they sit down to talk about more personal topics, like family.

"My mother had apparently sought help from Borgin at some point in her stay in London. Merlin alone knows what that old bat had to offer." This jolts a memory in her brain, and Kate slowly pieces together the information she had collected that rainy day.

"Your family is related to the Slytherins, aren't they?" To that, he raises an eyebrow, face a mix of caution and intrigue.

"What of that?"

"Borgin has a locket in possession that I suspect belongs to Salazar Slytherin. I questioned him about the item almost a fortnight ago, and all he told me was that a young and heavily pregnant woman sold him this locket almost two decades back."

"Well," he considers this, "I don't suppose I could charm Borgin out of it. He is unsurprisingly immune to my wiles."

"Especially not when he's waiting for a fortune to be paid for it." The two contemplate the issue in silence, Kate hitting a brick wall in the ways she could help Tom retrieve that piece of family history. _I certainly cannot ask a friend in the Magical Artifacts department, because they will impound the object and send it over to Hogwarts_. "I can't see any legal way to get it back at this point. Unless you can get your dear friend Malfoy to call in a favour, the locket is stuck with Borgin."

"I could try with Abraxas, but the success of that venture might be limited - that family has never been keen on getting their hands dirty for anything."

There is an idea - an idea that hinges mostly on an easily won-over personality, Tom's charm and the blatant exploitation of his tragic backstory, but it could work.

"How about you ensure the locket gets sold to the right person?" She sees her companion's eyes light up with intrigue, him leaning forward. "You scout out and plant a particular client in Borgin's mind; one that is both rich and a sympathetic personality. Then, you visit this buyer after the sale. You use your family history, charm and sentimental connections to the locket, and they offer it to you solely because it means so much to you and they can find another beautiful thing to covet with their money."

Tom has something akin to admiration etched on his face. "A Slytherin after my own heart; I could kiss you."

"You do that plenty often, Riddle," she smirks at him, donning her running shoes as she heads for the door, "find new ways to express your admiration." That's a fitting exit line, and Kate jogs out the door and into the cool night air, French braid swinging like clockwork as she runs to an imaginary beat.

The neighbours are almost all asleep, with the exception of a few houses. Someone sits by the window lamp reading the evening paper in a home three houses down from hers. Another has a light on in the kitchen, a lady bent over the sink finishing the day's washing. A few houses down, she hears the high pitched giggle of small children, and she runs laps around these buildings until her legs are ready to give out. Somewhere in the journey to that state, the kids have gone to sleep and the lady has finished her washing, and Kate slows down as she approaches the small, slightly secluded garden that she usually sits in after such a run.

The wind gently moves past her face and through her sweat-soaked shirt and pants as she trots over to an old oak. The tree is shady and perfect to lie under, but yesterday's thunderstorm has left the grass and soil below it too sticky and muddy to lie or sit in.

"Lucky I have an appropriate army tarp to sit on, then." The voice breaks the quiet spell, and she has to resist the urge to whip out her wand as she turns her head to look at the speaker.

"That wasn't very polite."

"So isn't risking your better half falling asleep in wet and muddy grass, but six of one."

"If I'm the better one, then you should expect better of me as well."

"I do," he begins, "because while I said you would be risking falling asleep, I would definitely fall asleep in muddy grass after such an exhausting routine. So, what are we doing here?"

"As of now, I'm sitting here until I finally feel the urge to leave."

"And when would that be?"

She flops down on the tarp as he sets it down, shrugging as she looks up at the thankfully clear sky. The moon is waning but still bright enough to provide decent visibility, and Kate picks at her t-shirt as she leans against the tree's trunk. "This goddamn war has forced all of us to grow up way faster than I like."

"Some of us had to grow up quicker anyways," he says before taking a bite of his apple, passing her one. Kate's face reddens, realising a boundary she might have crossed.

"Sorry," she says into the air, not looking at him. It was inconsiderate and thoughtless of her to say that without keeping in mind the individual beside her, and her fidgeting increases. A warm hand encloses her free one, and he moves to sit in front of her.

"I should be the one apologising - I didn't intend the statement to come off as critical of you." Before she can counter back with a statement of her own, he picks up her free hand, pressing it to his cheek. "You are right - it has forced everyone to take on roles that clearly were meant for later in life for them. We're not playing a game of 'who's had it worse' here, Kate, and I don't want you to censor your thoughts because you think it might offend me."

"I can frame them better," she mutters to herself. At that, he chuckles.

"Dressing it up better doesn't change the contents of the message, and we are both well aware of that. You should be brash, and you should be especially brash with me; heaven knows I need someone to show me my place from time to time."

"Please," she scoffs, "don't _**ever**_ get the impression that I'm scared of you in any form. Because I can and will hand your arse to you if necessary."

"And she's back."

"You're pretty good at this."

"Specify 'this', love." At the last word, she bristles a little, but doesn't let it show.

"Being honest and charming at the same time."

"Years of practice."

They sit in silence after that, Kate letting her mind finally wander for once - she might not still be fully comfortable voicing everything she thinks to Tom, but they're getting there.

 _And that's good enough for now_.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is kind of short, mainly because it concludes Phase 1 of this story. The groundwork for the next two parts has been laid - Phase 2 will be dealing with a ton of changes and transitions, and things will really rev up in Phase 2. For now, enjoy this short filler, and I'll see you guys again next month!

_**People are usually so predictable** _ **.**

After a good while of star-gazing, Tom notices his companion's figure droop, eyes fighting the exhaustion so clear on her body. "Kate," he murmurs, lightly tapping her leg to break her out of her stupor, "you need to get to bed." That doesn't do the trick, so Tom loudly snaps his fingers, shaking her off her sleepy tracks.

She apologises, profusely rubbing her eyes as he discards the apple cores in a nearby bush and slowly hoists her to her feet. Once the coast is completely clear, they Apparate into their bedroom. The journey has forced her into being wide awake, but the way she slumps shows the weariness.

"Shower first, then bed," he instructs, and Merlin knows how much he hates babying people. It is a different thing to order people around, and another to baby them, and the latter is simply a tad too annoying for him to do it successfully. Kate kicks her shoes off and peels off her socks, but beyond that shows no inclination to do as he says. "All right then," he mutters under his breath, taking her by the hand into the bathroom.

"What are you doing?"

"We're getting in the shower." That seems to fully bring her to the land of the waking.

" _We're_ doing _what_ now?"

"We both need a shower, you more than I." She steps under the shower head and turns it on, a defiant glint in her eyes as the water soaks her, clothes and all. He follows suit, slipping off his shoes and socks as he enters, pressured beams of warm water soaking him through. A minute passes after which she undoes her hair, letting the water turn it into a sheet of black around her, eyes still trained on him with a piercing gaze, and Tom finds himself taking off his t-shirt, the item of clothing discarded by his feet as the water now runs down his bare torso. She is still looking at him with that inscrutable expression, stepping forward until their noses touch, beads of water resting upon this new bridge created.

"Now give me the shampoo bottle, and get out." Of all the outcomes he had predicted, this was not one of them. He does as asked, quickly exiting the bathroom, sopping wet. In the while she takes to shower, Tom analyses the odd series of events from just moments before. Puzzlement turns to appreciation as he sees it for the power play it is, and rather than being angry at the switch in their dynamic, he feels a surge of mild admiration. _I chose the right witch to pursue - if all goes to plan, she will be a force worth fearing_.

The door suddenly opens, and dry clothes and a fresh towel go flying from the cupboard into the bathroom, Kate emerging a few minutes later clothed and dried, jabbing a thumb in the direction she came from and he quickly follows, the warm shower soothing his tense back.

She's in bed when he returns, eyes fixed upon an old copy of Transfiguration Today and does not deign to look up when he climbs into bed. Where this behaviour should irk him, all it does is increase his current appreciation of her. When she's done reading and turns the lights off, Tom decides to speak.

"I don't think you'll ever find me patronising you again," he finally says, an arm lightly over her body.

"Good." Unless he is quite mistaken, he can hear a note of amusement in her voice. She turns towards him now, a confident, wicked look playing on her face. "And take that shirt off," she says as her lips find his collarbone, hands trailing his sides as he does what he's told, "Merlin knows I like you better without it." And just when he thinks they will slide back into their usual rhythm she turns her back to him, leaving him with a burning need to kiss her senseless.

His sleep breaks earlier than usual and for reasons not quite known, he doesn't feel sleep laden anymore. So Tom chooses to watch Kate, burrowing his way into her mind as she continues to sleep. There's mostly Auror training occupying the front of her brain, and as he digs further, he finds the mindscape to be populated by memories dating back to third and fourth years. There is nothing of much interest there, but the fact that he has breached a major barrier in his abilities gives him cause to continue this Legilimency expedition.

He makes it all the way past two years' worth of memories when she wakes, sleepily regarding himr. His mood is triumphant from his latest achievement, and a satisfying revenge for last night make its way into his actions as he lazily plants kisses along her collarbone, her pulse quickening after each one.

"I'm very clearly awake now, Riddle" she stifles a groan into her pillow, but he simply stays the course. "This is for last night, I assume?" she inhales sharply after a particularly long, lingering one at the base of her neck.

"A night's frustration," he whispers into her skin, "paid in full throughout the day."

"Why must you torture me so," she mutters, but that she hasn't told him to stop lets him know just how much his captive is enjoying herself.

**Author's Note:**

> Read and comment!


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